


Guilty Parties

by pen0fevil



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Grief/Mourning, Hacking, Healing, Kidnapping, LET ME INDULGE MYSELF OKAY, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Technology, Violence, developing feelings, getting over it, kinda au-ish?, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen0fevil/pseuds/pen0fevil
Summary: Growing up as the child of two upper-level researchers under Overwatch was hard. It was made even harder by the fact you were raised away from your family, a decision your parents made to keep you safe.The Fall of Overwatch made you an orphan, and for five years you lived without it casting its shadow over your life. On the anniversary of the destruction of the Swiss Base it all comes crashing down, the careful precautions all evaporating over night when Talon tries to capture you for an unknown cause. Now you're stuck, unraveling the secrets and riddles your parents left behind while working with their old colleagues and friends.All that's left is to rebuild the organization that stole your family and your childhood, dragging you back into the world your parents tried so hard to keep you out of.





	1. Without a Trace

Five years ago, the world stopped.

Not for everyone. Not even for alot of people, as you watched random strangers go about their lives as you rode the train home from work. They were oblivious, which in a way was comforting. It was grounding, reminding you to keep going forward with your head up. The world didn't stop, and that forced you to keep walking even when you wanted to. 

You got off the train, careful to not miss your stop as you climbed out and onto the subway platform. It was easy to daydream, to be distracted, but that would be bad. It was harder to stay focus and ignore the tightness in your chest, but you'd gotten better over the years when today rolled around. Hell, you'd managed to go to work. That was an accomplishment in and of itself.

Up the stairs, on the street, your mind began to wander. Five years ago tonight, Overwatch collapsed. The Swiss base exploded in an accident, or some kind of battle... you never really were told which. All that mattered was the base had been destroyed in a blaze, an explosion that shook the snowy mountains around it, and took both your parents with it. 

Five years ago, you'd been just finishing up college. You were about to get your degree, take your first all-grown-up steps in the world, when you got the call. Cramming for tests, you slept through the ringing as your mother called you for a video call one last time, and you'd missed it. She'd left a message, and when you finally woke up the news that the Swiss base had been obliterated was the only thing showing on the holoscreens... and that kept you from watching it for months. 

Five years ago tonight.

With a sigh, you pushed your key into the lock on your front door. You just wanted today to be over with, so you could stuff it down into the dark place in your heart and pretend for another year that today wasn't real. Maybe you'd order something _terrible_ for dinner; pizza? There was a place down the street, Bernie'd said some good things--

"Huh." You murmured aloud to yourself, putting the keys on the hook next to the door. The kitchen light was off; it was on a timer to switch on in the evening. There was a sudden heavy oppressiveness to the air, and you had to shake the suspicion and force yourself to take a step forward. It was probably the bulbs... you'd been telling yourself you were going to change them, but damn if it wasn't a pain in the ass.

That had to be it, right? The front door had been locked, hadn't it? You stopped, opening the front door and checking the lock like you were some kind of CSI forensic lab rat. If the lock was picked it would have tool marks right? You bent down, running your fingers over the lock. You muttered darkly to yourself, shaking your head. If there _were_ marks, you wouldn't know what you were looking at to begin with, unless they came at your door with a crowbar. 

Standing at the open front door, you felt like a fool. There was no reason to be this... this _paranoid_. You closed the door with a snap, squaring your shoulders and taking another purposeful step toward the darkened kitchen. It was almost like you were dragging your feet, going towards the darkness, and even as you argued with yourself that you were being stupid for _absolutely literally, no fucking reason get a grip, damn_ , you couldn't help but strain your hearing to see if something else was in that kitchen waiting. 

You made it to the doorway, your heart pounding as you reached for the switch... and nothing. The lights were just out. 

The laughter that bubbled up couldn't be stopped. You were being ridiculous, and for a moment it was just a relief that you'd stopped thinking about how awful today was and you let out the breath you'd been holding. With a last chuckle and a sigh, you walked deeper into the house, heading for the side closet near the kitchen that held the spare bulbs and the flashlight. "Of course," you grumbled to yourself, pulling the closet's door open and reaching in.

"Should have stuck to your gut,"

You froze, your hand still extended as you reached for the flashlight in the stupid broom closet. There was something hard pressed to your torso, digging in uncomfortably as you fought the urge to turn your head. It had to be today. _Had to be_.

"I thought we'd lost you when you opened the door back up. Clever checking the lock."

"Not clever enough I guess." You hissed back, your eyes drawn to the voice even as they pushed the barrel in harder. Oh yeah. Great, lovely, wonderful. That was a gun jammed into your ribs, and the person behind it didn't seem inclined to move it. 

"Keep those wanderin' eyes forward. You've got other shit to worry about than what I look like."

"Yeah?" You spat back, your hand carefully wrapping around the flashlight in the closet. It was heavy, one of those big utility ones with the giant batteries, and he was too busy watching your face to watch your hand. You just had to sit perfectly still. "Like what?"

"Like what I want you to do for me." He answered, and you felt the pressure lessen the tiniest bit. Progress.

"I don't think I'm going to want to do what you want, sorry." Keep talking, just keep talking and maybe options would open up. It was like you were working, but instead of cracking open some secure system you were wearing down some crazy maniac that had apparently broken into your place. A careful battle of attrition as you wore him and his guard down.

"I don't think you have a real choice." The confidence in his voice was brimming, and the gun eased just alittle more. He thought he was home clear. Just alittle bit further. A touch. "We're going to go for a ride. Nice and easy, out the back door. If you're good, it'll be a nice trip." He laughed then, and you almost flinched. Not yet, not yet. Too soon. "You want it to be a nice trip."

"Anyone in particular I pissed off that wanted to arrange this little working dinner?" You were scrambling for an excuse to stay there, to draw it out, anything to keep him from moving you to the door to some waiting getaway van. You didn't warrant this kind of heavy work; you worked for a cybersecurity firm damn it. All your work was mostly private sector, people that _wanted_ you to test their systems. 

But here was some blackops-wannabe upstart with something to prove. Hell, even if it wasn't a stall maybe you'd figure out who wanted you so bad. It had to be a mistake, the wrong address. Something, anything-- you swallowed past the panic suddenly surging up, quieting the fear in your head before things got any more away from you. Not now. When this was over, if you got away, then you could flip the hell out. Shit, if he got you all the way to the van then you could panic. Right now you had to focus. 

"Not my place to say." The gun finally moved from your side, and you heard him step back and into the darkened kitchen again. "We got places to go. People to meet. You going to be good for me?"

"Can I put my arms down?" You asked carefully, eyes flicking to him again. "They're starting to hurt." Just a tiny window, a sliver of opportunity. _Something_.

The gunner chuckled again, and you heard rather than saw them nod by the scratching of fabric. The gun was still up, but they were holding it loose now. Convinced they'd had you cowed. "Go for it. Lets go for a walk huh? Some fresh--"

Before you had a chance to doubt yourself, to talk yourself out of it, you tightened your hand around that heavy metal flashlight and whipped it around where you thought the bastard's head would be. If he'd stepped back you would have missed, but he was still close enough to touch. Close enough to homerun his head nearly off his shoulders. 

He shouted, surprised as he stumbled, and you were on him grappling for the gun. The adrenaline ran hot in your veins, hands scrabbling against his to try and get the damn gun but it was almost like it was attached to him. He recovered from the blow faster than you thought he would, and he roared nearly in your face as he threw you to the ground. There was enough force in the blow to knock the air out of you, but you were already scuttling back towards your room despite the burning in your lungs. 

"You--" He was still snarling, shouting at you as you scrambled down the hall and he made to follow you. You could get out the back window, out the side door to the street. You just had to be faster than him for ten seconds.

The longest ten seconds of your life.

It felt like he was snapping at your heels by the time you slammed into your bedroom door, wrenching it open and flying inside. You were at the wall by the time he made it in, half out the window when he grabbed you by the ankle and started pulling you in. "I gave you the choice!" He was shouting after you as you screamed, kicking at him with your free foot. "You picked _bad_!"

You turned for a moment, still struggling out of the window as he tried to pull you back in. You were trying to aim for his face, but he caught your foot as you set up for the kick. "I told you you wouldn't like bad, but I guess you're going to learn first hand huh?"

"Joke's on you, I'm a slow learner." You snarled back, bracing on the ankle he just grabbed and yanking the other foot free. You let go of the window, and the sudden loss of the tension helped to shake up his own footing as he stumbled backwards. With your back to the floor, while he wrenched at your leg trying to get back some of his control you stomped as hard as you could at his knee. You missed, just barely, but you grazed enough of it that he suddenly released your ankle when he realized what you were trying for. 

The room was that kind of loud silence, that ringing in the ears quality broken only by the ragged breathing between you and the bastard that had you cornered. "Come fucking get me," you taunted, hand clenching and unclenching around the flashlight that you'd managed to keep hold of even during the scuffles in the hallway and now your bedroom. 

Your eyes never left his face, what you could see of it anyway behind that mask. All that was visible was the glow of red eyes, over two gasmask-like air filters. His hand was creeping towards his hip, but you stayed standing, watching, until the last moment before you finally flung that damn flashlight--

Right past his face. It went sailing a few inches wide, and the last thing you saw was his hand darting down to the spare gun at his hip. You were already turning, clawing your way back through the window as you heard the shattering glass of the mirror behind him. You hadn't been aiming for him, no, he'd be ready for it, and instead tried to distract him with the mirror above the dresser.

It must have worked, because you were already out of the window by the time you heard him swearing after you. Dashing past the corner, feeling the burning in your lungs as you _ran_ , a fresh dose of adrenaline jamming itself into your already tired muscles as a shot thundered just behind you into the brick wall a few feet after you. You didn't open the gate so much as blow through it, somehow staying standing and mobile even after you'd dropped shoulder and rammed it open to stumble onto the street.

The street itself was mostly deserted this time of night, save for the black car that was now slowly making its way up the road towards your place. 

You didn't have a second to catch your breath, instead you dragged yourself to your feet and began running the opposite way. There was nothing left in the tank at this point, your lungs gasping and your muscles screaming for some kind of break. If you slowed down, you were done... but if you didn't, your body would make you, and you wouldn't get to choose when. 

Already you were slowing down, the pounding of your feet against the pavement sounding more like slaps. You could hear the car behind you revving up, the first man shouting orders now that he had back up and alot less patience. Still gasping, you straightened up and took another look down the street. Someone had to be watching, someone had to take notice.

Please?

The car was bearing down on you now, and for a moment you had a wild thought of disappearing into an alley, but even as you considered it that seemed like an awful idea. How long could you run in a straight line before the first bullet bit into your back? You sat frozen for a moment, too many bad options keeping you in place as the first wave of dread washed over you. The van was suddenly beside you, the door yanked open as the driver shouted. "Get her in the fucking van!"

There was just the smallest bit of fight left in you, and when the first man grabbed your arm you dropped your shoulder again and tried to bowl him over, shifting your leg forward and tangling it with his to make him lose his footing. It probably would have worked, if you weren't also competing with the other guy in the van grabbing your other arm and trying to haul you literally kicking and screeching into the car.

A crack of thunder too close to your head startled you enough to visibly flinch despite everything that was happening. You felt one of their hands loosen, the other nearly dropping you to the ground in surprise as you staggered back up to stand. There was another thunderous crack, your ears ringing as you instinctively turned away from the car and bolted to the alley. You could smell gunpowder, and even with the gunshots behind you you could make out the kidnappers shouting. 

"She's getting-- fuck, just abort! ABORT! _The van, damn it--_ "

You didn't want to stick around. Your guardian angel had literally dropped in, guns _blazing_ and by the mercy of whatever celestial being or cosmic joke was out there you were going to thank your lucky stars and just get the hell out of dodge. Your mind was a litany of no, nopes, and not today's as you tripped over a trashcan, stumbling but somehow keeping your footing thanks to the third wind you'd caught.

But even that had to come to and end, and the second time you stumbled you didn't get back up. Where the hell had you run to, anyway? You didn't recognize this part of town, though it wasn't like you spent your weekends crawling around on all fours in the back alleys. This was a new experience... even as you collapsed, breathing hard as you let the last what felt like an eternity sink in, you just felt numb. Your senses were still dialed to 14 out of 10, and you were so overwhelmed it made everything short circuit. 

Just breathe. Three in, five out, as you sat on your ass in the alley blinking up at the sky for a moment---

There was another flash of red light and you jerked your hand up defensively, turning away even as you felt someone lean over you. "My, you're a quick one!"

The numbness was still there, settling around you like a blanket as you lowered your arm what felt like a millimeter at a time as you finally focused on the person-- no, it was a woman, the woman looming over you. She was smiling, hands on her hips as she leaned down to grin at you with spiked up hair and those goggles. "Cheers love,"

Your brain was so fried that you said the first thing to come to mind, eyes just a touch too wide. "... the calvalry's here."

She laughed, a bubbly giggle as she reached a hand out. "That's right! Up you go, come on then." You took the help to stand, legs shakier than you remembered as you climbed to your feet and promptly nearly fell again. "I know you've had a rough go of it, but we just need to get you moving alittle longer. Think you can manage it?"

Tracer. You knew from the back of your mind that she was Tracer, looking damn near identical to the posters you'd seen in the old museums. For some reason knowing who she was became your focus; she was talking, jabbering on, and all you could do was stare. 

"We're nearly there," she was guiding you by the arm, gently steering you through the streets taking you somewhere else. The buildings, the streets were just blurs as you looked up, eyes scrunched together as you tried and failed to process what was happening.

"What... happened?" You finally managed to ask, stopping abruptly. Your brain was beginning to catch up, and that sinking panic started to come back.

"You were _very brave_ is what happened," Tracer answered cheerily, stopping for a moment to let you take a breath before tugging gently at your arm. "But we really must keep going. I promise, everything will be cleared up but we have to get _you_ out of here before those goons come back." She managed to get you moving, a few shakey steps forward even when you felt like your legs would turn into jelly.

"Where are we going?"

"Some place safe!" She all but sang back. Or, maybe it just sounded like she was singing to your addled head. "We just need to get you away from here first."

That... wasn't really an answer, but you weren't in a position to ask for clarity even as she dragged you out into an empty lot where a shockingly impressive aircraft was waiting. What fucking side of town where you in _now_ that they could just have a goddamned airplane parked waiting for pick up?

"On you go," Tracer had started pulling you toward the open cargo door, and you had a momentary flash of the van and the three masked men pulling you in. Your nerves locked up and you yanked your arm away from her's and took a startled step back even as she turned to give you a quizzical look.

"I've had my fucking house broken in to," you started, anger rising up like bile in your throat as you squared your shoulders and your stance. The fear was tired, old and stale in your gut, and it was being quickly replaced by anger. "I've had a gun pointed at me, been chased half way across the fucking city, nearly pulled into a van-- and you just, what, want me to follow along? I don't even know what you people fucking want from me."

You threw your hands up in the air, motioning behind you. "I don't even know what _those_ fucking people want from me, and I'm supposed to trust you because you say so?" You were panting, eyes wide as you rode the wave of fury as it washed over you. Tracer, to her credit, stood there in front of you, hands at her sides as her face drew together in concern before she took a careful step forward. She raised her hands, trying to calm you even as you tried to flinch away.

"I know you've been through a lot tonight, love." She began slowly, her voice gentle and calm. "I know we're asking a lot, too. But we need to ask one more thing, and that's that you get on that ship behind me." You tried to step back but she'd put her hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently. "If we could avoid it, I promise we would. But tonight we're not sure where's safest for you."

You sighed, your head a muddled mess as your body threatened to give out again. The adrenaline was gone, the nerves shot. You were just so exhausted, tired of being brave, of being _scared_. Without realizing it, you'd hung your head, your shoulders slumping.

"Just trust us alittle longer?" Tracer persisted, squeezing your shoulder again to catch your attention and make you look up at her as she smiled. She jerked her head over her shoulder, nodding to the aircraft behind her. "The finish line's right there; we're nearly done. A few more steps?"

You swallowed, your mouth dry as you eyed the craft behind her. There was that stupid Overwatch symbol emblazoned on the side, and you took it like a sign. "A few more steps." You agreed, and she pulled you forward with her. "Let's just... get out of here."

Five years ago tonight, it felt like your world ended. Overwatch collapsed, and took your parents with it. Now, as you boarded the plane with Tracer's hand on your shoulder you looked back out at the ground and the city as the craft rose into the air. Now it felt like it was saving your life.


	2. Time to Cowboy Up

"Poor thing's in shock."

You couldn't remember when you must have fallen asleep, the hum of the aircraft's engines lulling you into a deep if fitful state of semi-unconsciousness. Your dreams had been plagued by haunted houses and red-eyed shadows trying to break doors down as you fled screaming into the inky night. 

Exhaustion aside, you were awake enough now to hear the people talking beside the table with a golden holographic display of the world hovering above it. You recognized Tracer's voice first, talking to another gruffer one with a drawl that seemed to blend with the quiet roar of the engines. 

"Off like a shot," he said, mouth full of gravel. "Nearly gave you a run for your money takin' off like she did."

You tried to sit up straight, panic rushing forward in a burst as you hands flew up to the metal harness holding you securely in place in the chair. For a shining second you'd forgotten they'd strapped you in shortly after lifting into the air. You'd been shaking, visibly vibrating as much Tracer was worried you'd pass out and insisted you sit down. 

Just as you'd started trying to wriggle out of the harness, yanking at the handles to pry it off, she was abruptly beside you. She'd put her hands over yours to quiet them, trying to calm you out of the sudden and intense attempt at escaping the damn chair you felt so trapped in. "Now now, you're alright love. Almost there."

Sitting back in the chair, you took a deep, steadying breath as you fought to get your heart back under control. You felt light headed, and it was hard to tell if it was the shock, the altitude or some combination of both as you consciously slowed your breathing. 

You swallowed, dozens of different questions swarming around in angry clouds inside your head. Each one you thought up seemed to only breed more. It was maddening, infuriating, and you finally settled on the simplest one. 

"What the fuck is going on?"

The gruff voice chuckled, coming into view as Tracer looked up. You had to still be dreaming was your first thought as you took a moment to look at him, really look at him, and let it sink in. The first thing to come to mind was "cowboy"; he was even wearing the hat and a set of spurred boots. This couldn't be real.

"Looks like Talon's taken a shine to you," he answered before Tracer could speak up, and the way she frowned at him you vaguely wondered if she'd been the one wanting to keep you in the dark. 

You blinked at the two of them, your brows drawing together in confusion as you tried to process the words. It didn't make sense; you were no one. Your parents had been the brilliant scientists, the researchers, the ones worth taking. They'd shielded you from all of that; hell, growing up you'd lived with relatives to keep you safe and off of the radar for this explicit reason... but they were gone now. You can't hurt the dead ransoming the living. 

"That's impossible," you finally murmured, shaking your head. It didn't make any sense, this whole clusterfuck of a shitshow was eight shades of weird, and the more you tried to reason it out the more it made your head hurt. "They-- there's no reason. There's no way."

"Clearly there is, else we couldn't've known about it." The cowboy chewed the end of his cigar, scratching at his beard in a thoughtful gesture. "We might be in the hero business but we're not all-knowin'. You should thank your lucky stars we caught wind of it at all, else you'd still be in that van with much worse company." He dropped his hands to his hips, and you realized one of his arms was cybernetic in nature. It was a strange little detail to pick up on, and now that it had caught your attention it was hard to not focus on it.

That muddled, mush feeling in your brain was still there you realized, and the more you thought on it, the more he talked about your near kidnapping, it felt like that awfulness was clawing its way back up to settle in your muscles and your bones. 

"They _can't_ ," you emphasized again. You could feel the panic welling up. The harness was suddenly too tight, and it was too hard to breath. You had to get out of this chair, out of this airship. Hell, you needed to get _out_ of this sudden living nightmare you couldn't seem to wake up from.

"That's enough, Jesse." Tracer moved so she was blocking him from view, filling up your full field of view as she slowly breathed in. "Follow me, love. Just like that, in.... and out." She drew a slow breath in through her nose, before blowing it out slowly from her mouth and waiting for you to mimic her. "It's alright, see? Not a bad guy on board."

The breathing helped, which... that was surprising. Already your heart began to slow, the panic dropping down into the depths as you relaxed and leaned your head back against the headrest. Tracer was smiling, nodding approvingly as her hands dropped down to your side where the catch for the harness had you locked into place. 

"Do you want to stand up?" She asked, and for some reason the fact that she asked first put you more at ease. It gave you a choice, the illusion of power to decide, and after a moment of thought you nodded. 

"Yeah... yeah, I think I'll move around."

Tracer pushed something beside you and the harness unlocked. She stepped back, giving you room to stand as you turned your head to take another look around the cabin. You were getting your first good look now, a welcome distraction as you eased off the seat to stand up and stretch your legs. 

"How long was I asleep?" You murmured, rubbing the back of your neck. Your legs still felt weak, shaky, and you werent sure if it was nerves or the panic from last night still settled into you muscles and bones. Tracer took a moment, canting her head and looking out of the window as if trying to properly gauge the time that had passed.

"A few hours. I thought it best to let you sleep."

"Doesn't feel like I got any rest at all." You grumbled back, moving towards the table sitting almost dead center on this side of the hold, between the sets of seats that you probably had to be harnessed in to for take off and landing. There was a globe hovering over the table, made of holographic golden light as it hung silently to spin on its axis. There were lines, markers, but one of them stood out more than the others.

You reached up, your finger passing through the light and tracing the path the little blip was making. Tracer had moved up to stand beside you, while you caught Jesse in your peripheral back further into the corner of the hold. He was chewing his cigar, sitting on the L-shaped couch tucked into the corner next to the ramp that you imagine lead into the back cargo area. "Is this... where we are?" 

Before she really had a chance to answer, your fingers were already moving across the keypad below the globe. It was basic navigations it looked like, an interactive map set up for mission briefings. While you weren't really familiar with the system, it was intuitive for what you wanted it to do; namely, figure out where you were, and where you were going to be. 

"Quite clever with that, are you?" You heard her chuckling, and before you realized you were doing it you had already pulled apart the map. It wasn't a globe anymore, the golden light remodulating itself into a topographical map. The terrain was moving past, the map constantly adjusting as the stats shone just a handswidth below. You knew how fast you were going, how long you were travelling for and when it was projected you'd arrive. 

"It's not that complicated," you answered after a moment. It was hard not to feel the beginnings of a smile pricking at your mouth; Tracer's effervescent attitude was slowly helping to melt the tension out of you. It was nice to think about something else, even if it was just something as small as the airship's simple navigation set up. "Touch and go."

Tapping a few more keys, the map returned to the globe it had originally been. You reached up, anchoring your fingers into the light and turning the globe so you could take another look at its flight path. You found the city they'd picked you up in, eyes narrowing as you let your finger rest on the solid line that was the flight path you were taking. The hologram reacted, automatically turning so your finger followed the line without input to show the destination.

"Gibraltor?" You canted your head a touch, trying to register where you were being taken. "You're taking me to... Watchpoint Gibraltor?" The tone of your words echoed the confusion welling up and racing through your head as you turned to Tracer expecting answers... but it was Jesse who cleared his throat from the couch, nodding toward the map. 

"When Overwatch collapsed, they didn't exactly let us maintain the lease on the old bases." He was chewing on his cigar, tipping his hat back to get a better look at you as he leaned back into the couch tucked into the corner. "The Rock's the only place we have left, and the best place to circle the wagons and figure out where to go from here."

You felt your mouth pressing into a line, turning back to the globe as you let it sink in. Gibraltor... it wasn't home, but it had to be safer right? The weight of everything happening was slowly pressing down around you again, a kind of insidious gravity that seemed to be a constant force even when you weren't thinking about it... until you were. Then you noticed it crushing the life out of you, struggling to breathe. 

"Do you take all your civilians to the top secret base hidden in a chunk of rock?" You hadn't meant for it to sound bitter, the words cutting as you felt your shoulders slumping over the console. You felt Tracer's hand on your shoulder and for a moment you just wanted to shrug it off and stew in your resentment.

You heard that gravelly chuckle of Jesse's; if he heard the snarl in your words he wasn't showing it, and when you looked up again he was shaking his head. "I imagine we would, but then again if Talon was snatchin' random folk off the street we'd be in alot worse trouble." He nodded to you, taking the cigar and motioning to you as you glared up at him. It felt better to have someone or something to redirect the hurt and anger to, even if you knew in the back of your mind it was undeserved. "No, darlin', I meant it when I said they want you for something. We just don't quite know yet, and we were hoping you could help us out on that front."

"I have no idea." You bit the words out, clean and sharp as you straightened up. The old thoughts were swirling around again, a storm of _this is absurd_ and _completely ridiculous_ 's, but the nagging gravity at the back of your mind reminding you this wasn't some nightmare you could just wake up from.

"Think hard, love." Tracer urged, her hand squeezing your shoulder as you turned to look at her again. "It could be anything. Maybe some work you've done, or who you worked _for_...?"

No, it wasn't any of that. Your freelance hacking days were long behind you, hanging up the grey hat and wearing the white full time after college. Corporate contractors wouldn't even look at you if you had a hint of a smudge on your resume or background check, and you constantly reminded yourself how lucky you'd been that you hadn't gotten caught doing stupid kid shit thinking you were this master of the net in your teenage years. The same went for picking up unsavory job requests; you'd never risk your career for a single payday when consistent work was more lucrative and safer in the long run. 

"I. _Don't_. _**Know**_." You repeated, shaking your head. "I haven't-- I don't mess with any of that. All private sector, corporate shenanigans." Your eyes were darting around the console, and your felt your fingers pressing at buttons just to have some measure of control over something. The map disappeared, and instead a display of the ship's mission database materialized in its place. "Why would I poke around shit that could get me killed?"

You'd managed to pull up the dossier for this particular run; the details spreading out in front of you in a golden display of light and holographic nodes. There was your picture on full display, pulled from your license. A full profile of your life, your address, your habits. It stole the breath from your lungs in a gasp, your eyes widening as you realized it was _you_ on that screen, your life for anyone or anything to pick apart. It was one thing to have a vague idea, but another to see it in light right in front of your face.

Tracer sighed, and you knew without looking that her usually smiling face was probably frowning. She was perplexed, her brows drawn together as she looked over at Jesse for some kind life line. 

"We think it has somethin' to do with your parents." Jesse said after a moment, trying to word it delicately you imagined. "We know... we know she sent you a message before..."

"Before she was killed? Yeah." You answered, your voice quiet. You never told anyone that. It had been your private memory to ease the agony of that tragedy. You didn't want to answer the questions that would have come with it: what did it say? Did it record the moment _it_ happened? Do you know who killed her? All of that was personal, yours alone, and even after five years you didn't want to share. 

It figured that something even as painful as that wouldn't escape the scrutiny of Overwatch, and whoever else had been spying on you in recent months. 

"I hate to ask, and I know we shouldn't," Tracer began again, and you could hear it in her voice. The apology and the pity, and somehow that made it worse. "But... do you still have it? We need to examine the original message."

You were silent for a long time, your hands clutching at the console so hard your hands began to ache. The two in the room were just as quiet, and when the pilot spoke over the comms you hardly reacted. "I still have it." You finally said after a while, shaking your head. They were right, and you hated it. Hated it down to the moment Overwatch imploded, the night you'd been asleep. How much of this could you have avoided, if you'd just answered the call. There wouldn't be a recording, no message, no kidnapping bullshit five years later.

But then you'd never have a final memento either.

"I have the original file saved to my personal ghost drive." You said again, shaking your head. "When we land on the Watchpoint, I'll get you access to it." It felt like all the energy had been drained out of you, exhaustion catching up as you wavered on your feet. Tracer's arm was suddenly around your waist, steadying you as she helped you move back to your harnessed seat against the wall.

"Easy now," she murmured, soothing and smiling as she got you back into the seat. "Its alot to take in, but we'll get it all sorted. Don't you worry." She moved the catch down to buckle you back in, even as you turned your head to look at Jesse still seated comfortably on the couch in the corner away from you. 

He tipped his hat, smirking at you with the cigar back in his mouth. "We're not long from landing but I don't think you could keep your footing. Stick around with us long enough and maybe you can take the couch one day."

You opened your mouth to say something witty, your old self easing back out before the pilot cut you off. Tracer took a seat next to you, but she didn't bring the bar down. Seemed she didn't need to worry about the landing either, though all of that vanished in a moment when the ship rounded a wall of rock. You could see the base from the window set in the ramp that doubled as a door, and for a moment all you could do was stare.

The base itself seemed carved out of the rock face itself, sitting inside the mountain rather than on. A satellite station and one of those spherical weather buildings were the only thing to share the landing pad before the base led into the mountain proper, and for a moment you had a wild thought of wondering if you were going to set foot in a base your parents may have worked at before the disaster in Switzerland. 

"Ready love?" Tracer seemed to have noticed your mind wandering away from you, falling dangerously silent as she reached a hand out for your shoulder. It was a nice weight, calming, and enough to bring you back to the present. 

"As I'll ever be."


	3. At Their Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter! pls forgive! Enjoy!

For some reason, getting off of the ship was worse than getting on it. That was weird, wasn't it? But now that you were standing at the end of the ramp, frowning as you watched Tracer and Jesse disembark like it was nothing while your feet felt like they were glued to the platform. 

Tracer turned, blinking at you as you hesitated on the threshold. She tried to give you another one of those reassuring smiles but even that wasn't enough to make you budge. "You should give her the tour, Jesse." She said after a moment, looking up at the cowboy and jerking her head towards you. "I'll go talk to Winston in the meantime, and you can catch up." 

Before the man could refuse, she was already away in a dash of light down the ramp and into the base proper. He sighed, looking up at you and rubbing the back of his neck as he took the cigar away from his mouth. "Come on then. I'll show you around." He motioned to you, hand up as he directed you to come down the ramp and join him.

Watching Tracer dart away, not even an after image in her wake, made you realize how much you'd been relying on her: clinging to some vague idea that her friendliness meant you were safe, and now that you were alone with Jesse staring up at you you'd wished it had been him to run off instead.

It was that clear thought that shook you out of your mental back and forth. You were being childish and stubborn. You were grown, for fuck's sake; it was time to pull it together. You finally squared your shoulders and took a step off the ramp. If Jesse had any thoughts or opinions about your hesitation he kept them to himself. He let you join him at your own pace, unhurried and unconcerned. When you were finally on the ground beside him, he tipped his had and began walking. 

The landing area seemed to be beside a tall satellite station and a spherical weather tower. They were sitting on the only ledge jutting out this far off of the Rock's face. One path lead straightforward into a door, beneath an overhang of carved stone while another veered off to the left before dropping down at a sharp angle around the corner.

You hadn't realized you'd stopped to stare, your head turned towards the ramp as it dipped and curved out of sight. When Jesse spoke you jumped up, half forgetting he was there. 

"That leads to another hanger," he said with a nod towards the direction you'd been staring at. "There's some labs that way, but they don't see much use. Haven't, in a long while." Jesse shook his head, rubbing his chin. "Overwatch ain't what it used to be."

There was a kind of sadness to his tone; the way he'd said the words felt like he was almost grieving, though that wasn't really the right description either. Regret. Those words were marred by years and years of indescribable regret. It bothered you to hear that strange ache in his voice. It reminded you too much of the sound of your own when you talked about The Accident. 

"Jesse, huh?" You blurted out, trying to redirect the conversation somewhere else as the two of you walked towards the same giant circular door you'd seen Tracer disappear in to.

"Or McCree," the cowboy answered with a dry chuckle. "Whichever one you'd like to use more, darlin'. I'm easy that way."

The door slid open automatically, revealing a narrow, curved hallway that finally led into a larger room. The stairs to one side rose up to a platform, where some terminals and a computer server were set up beneath a large window looking out at the landing pad you'd just entered from. Lockers lined the walls of the lower section, sharing space with work-boards and... a swinging tire dangling near the holotable. Another one was situated near the terminal on the platform above, almost like it was doubling as a computer chair. 

You must have paused, your face bunching up in confusion as you took in the hodge podge set up. It was almost... mix and match, a combination of scientific implements and a playground. "What...?"

"This is Winston's main haunt," Jesse answered, stopping to look up at the tire hanging from the ceiling. The heavy chain creaked under the weight, but it seemed fairly secure. 

It wasn't the odd, almost playground-like set up of the room that bothered you. Your mother's own workspace, in those early memories when you still lived in the same home as your parents, had little puzzles and hand-held toys that she would fidget with while she was working or researching. 'Helps keep the brain limber,' she'd told you with a chuckle as you scowled down at a particularly difficult puzzle in your hands. 'Sometimes thinking a different way helps you get to a better answer.' Watching her, it was almost like she had been trying to decompress.

No, what was bothering you was the server bank up on the higher level behind the shattered glass encasing it. Most of them were lit and blinking silently as they worked... minus one, which had an odd hole punched about midway, like someone had tried to reach in and tear something out. 

You didn't know how long you had been staring at the damaged server, face knotted up in a scowl. It wasn't until Jesse had reached out, gently tugging at your shoulder to get your attention that you finally looked up, nearly jumping with surprise. "S-sorry."

"C'mon," Jesse motioned with a jerk of his head over his shoulder. "Got more for you to see."

He let go of your shoulder, now that you were mentally back with him and started walking towards the far circular door. It was a labyrinth of hallways and labs, dug out of the rock like some kind of rabbit warren. Jesse did his best to be the tour guide, trying and failing to remember the name and purpose of the rooms you passed. The only thing keeping you from being lost was the naked pipes running along the wall. They reminded you of the lines on a subway map, and once you thought of them that way it was easy to make sense of where you'd been.

You had been so focused on keeping your mental map straight, you hadn't been paying attention to the cowboy beside you. He'd gradually fallen silent, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck like he wasn't sure about something. 

"I'm sorry, 'bout before." He finally said, dropping his hand to his side. "I know I can be... Lena's said I'm's subtle as a bull in a store. I didn't mean t' frighten ya before."

His apology caught you off guard enough you nearly stopped, falling behind a step. You jerked your eyes off of the wall to stare at him, almost bewildered. "Its... fine," you finally manage to stutter out. "Don't worry about it."

Jesse gave you a smile then, roguish with its own kind of charm as he started walking again. Rather than continue the tour he seemed to be leading you to a more precise destination.

"Where're we going?"

"The doc wants to take a look at you," Jesse answered as he led you deeper into the base. "Give you a check up, maybe kick the tires."

He started to laugh at that, lifting up his hand to muffle the chuckle boiling over. "What's so funny?"

"I've got the feelin' you're more than fine." He said after a moment, eyes glittering with humor. "I saw the boy they sent to grab you. He's the one that needs a doctor. What'd you hit his face with?"

For a moment you had no idea what he was talking about. You'd blissfully forgotten the whole cause and reason for your trip here at what should have been a derelict, defunct Watchpoint. Now that he'd mentioned it, called attention back to the reason, it all flew back in a rush that nearly threw you off balance. You half stumbled a step, catching yourself with a hand on the wall to keep you steady. 

"I--" You swallowed, a sudden and intense pulse of dread coursing through your veins. It wasn't Jesse you were seeing, not for this split second of terror that had hijacked your brain. No, it was That Man in front of you, the gun jammed so hard into your ribs you knew it was bruising.

Without realizing it, you'd started to take sharp, shallow breaths. The only thing faster than your breathing seemed to be your pulse thundering in your ears, the sound drowning everything else out and freezing you in place. 

All of that shattered when you heard Jesse calling out to you, his hand gripping your shoulder. The contact was enough to bring you back just enough to the present. You could hear him now, feel the stone of the floor beneath your feet. Your hand had come up at some point, pressing against that point on your ribs where you'd felt the muzzle of the gun.

"Y'all right?"

You blinked at Jesse a few more times, half wondering how long he'd been talking to you while you'd drifted. He looked worried, but right now all you could do was feel numb.

"The gate." You weren't sure if you'd said the words out loud or just in your head, staring wide-eyed at Jesse. It was his voice, his eyes staring back... but he was wearing the face of your kidnapper.

"What?" Suddenly it was his face again, his hand on your arm holding you steady as you staggered on your feet. It felt like you had physically fallen back to the present. Your heart was still racing, thundering in your chest as your mind swam back up to the surface. It was like gasping for air when you finally broke through. 

"He ran into the gate when he was chasing me," you murmured aloud, your eyes still out of focus. The numbness started to spread, prickling along your skin as Jesse's eyes narrowed down. 

"Maybe seein' the doc isn't such a bad idea." Jesse still had a hold of your arm, though it wasn't the same threatening grab from before. It was a tether to keep you in the present.

The numbness was beginning to fade. The feeling was coming back in from where he held your arm, warmth spreading back from such simple contact. You were blinking, your eyes coming back into focus like waking from some horrible nightmare. Just as suddenly as it had happened, you were back beneath tons of rock and steel. Your town was thousands of miles away, and it wasn't your house you stood in but Gibraltar. 

"I'm alright," you said after a few too many seconds of silence. Your heart was only just starting to slow down to something within the realm of normal, but you still felt shaky on your feet.

"That you are." Jesse answered a little too quickly, his hand hesitant to leave your arm and instead finding a perch on your shoulder. His face was still that easy, relaxed calm... but there was a tenseness in the lines and angles of his expression. "C'mon. Nearly there."

Everything still had that strange, surreal feelin. That it was real, but not. Almost like walking through a dream. You both hated and appreciated that guiding pressure of his hand on your shoulder. It made the dream-state of reality fade back into something real that radiated out of the small point of contact. You'd been walking without realizing it, almost floating along but each step forward brought you back a little more.

By the time you finally stopped in front of a sliding door, you almost felt just this side of normal. Jesse was still there, unusually silent when he'd been so talkative before. It was eerie... and unnerving. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin', darlin'." The smile on his face seemed plastic and forced as he met your eyes and nodded. "Doc Ziegler is the best around. She's gonna take a quick look t' make sure thing stay that way."

"I don't need to see a doctor." You grumbled, tone flat with annoyance. Under that you could feel fear, though. And worry. You didn't want to see the doctor just to have them poke and prod. You didn't want to tell them the awful story of how you ended up here in the first place. How just the mental image of those guys short circuited you brain and dropped you into a panic. In some ways reliving it was worse than the memory of it itself. 

How stupid was that?

"Don't take it wrong," Jesse's voice cracked through your cacophony of thoughts like a crack of thunder, though he'd spoken very quietly. "I think you should. Won't hurt none to let her have a look under the hood."

You stared at him silently, face rumpled together in a scowl even as your mind gnawed at itself. He squeezed your shoulder, almost like he wasn't sure if he'd lost you to your thoughts again. Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes left his face to rest on the door, the anxiety making it as ominous as a cav'es gaping portal.

"Alright." The word came out more confidently than you felt, but even false bravado was better than that frozen feeling locking your legs into place. Far better than letting the fear have its way, the specters of the masked man clawing you into the dark of the van. 

"Atta girl," he squeezed your shoulder again, grinning at you with that boyish smirk. Hi hand fell away from your arm, pressing his real palm to a panel beside the door.

The door opened with a whir of hidden motors, the two halves sliding apart into the wall. The infirmary was bright, better lit than the hallway and... sterile. There wasn't an inch of bare stone anywhere in the room. The scattered gadgets and tools looked a bit more advanced than the standard medical equipment you'd seen in doctors' offices or hospitals, but that made sense. Overwatch was supposed to be the bleeding edge of all things both in science and tech. 

There was a woman bent over a desk, standing rather than sitting as she stared into the screen of a console. Even with a look of complete concentration set to her face she seemed kind. Gentle. And just this side of familiar.

"That there is doctor Angela Ziegler." Jesse motioned at her with a jerk of his head even though she was the only woman in the room. "Evening, doc."

She looked up at Jesse as he called out to her, her face brightening with the force of her smile when she stood to greet the two of you. You look just as I thought you would."

It hit you almost like a train, that smile. You'd seen it before, in pictures the few times you'd visited your parents at whatever base they were stationed at that year. It had been smiling and laughing beside another face, staring at the images in albums for hours at a time after the Collapse. This woman had been in quite a few of those pictures, working alongside your mother. The only difference being she had hardly aged a day since the last one had been taken nearly six years ago now. 

You blinked a few times, dumb founded. You'd never met any of your parents' coworkers or work friends; you hadn't even really lived with them when you were a child. Meeting one of them, in the flesh... it was a shock.

"Oh, just as she described!" The woman was cupping your face, holding you at arms length with the happiest grin you'd ever seen. "Let me see you. She would be so proud." She had a faint accent, but that wasn't enough to distract you from what she was saying.

"Who--?" You were desperate to hear now, unconsciously taking hold of her wrists as she smiled into your face. You had to be sure you had her attention.

Her hands dropped down to your shoulders, but she was still beaming with that incandescent smile. "Your mother, of course."

"You knew her." It was more a statement than a question, and when she finally let go you almost grabbed her in return.

"We were colleagues, before she retired from field work."

Field work? Your mother had never worked in the field; she'd been a researcher, a scientist. The confusion was beginning to show on your face. You started to open your mouth to ask her to explain, but Jesse beat you to it.

"Doc, a word?" The cowboy stood there at the door. He hadn't moved an inch, his arms unfolding to beckon her to a far corner of the room away from you.

She turned to him, curious as she followed him back further into the infirmary. They both left you standing there, desperate for answers and almost like they were retreating away from you. There was some murmuring, too low and too quiet to make out. Frustrating beyond words.

Gritting your teeth, you tried and failed to strain your ears but nothing picked up. You finally gave up trying to eavesdrop, turning your attention to the desk and the monitor. Glancing over your shoulder to make sure they were still absorbed in their own little conference, you quietly moved over and began scrolling.

The screen had your medical files laid out, though they were about five years out of date. It made you feel a touch better knowing that you hadn't been completely stalked in the time since, though you quickly got bored and took another peek at the duo in the corner. Jesse had his back to you, but Dr. Ziegler looked grim as she nodded every few words. 

Satisfied that you had a few more moments of unsupervised access, you tabbed down and began working on gaining access to the staff directory. You felt slightly guilty, using Dr. Ziegler's console and credentials to sneak in, but you were curious about something that had left you feeling just this side of uneasy. Everyone had been talking, asking, about your mother. Your father hadn't been mentioned once, and as you quickly scoured the hidden directories there wasn't a trace of him to be found either.

You could feel your face rumpling into a scowl, searching again only to be returned with nothing. There was your mother's drive, secured and unaccessed since her last sign in five years ago, but when you tried to find a matching one for your father it was like he'd been scrubbed from the drive.

Or he hadn't been there to begin with.

The murmuring had stopped, and you knew without looking that Jesse and the doctor were coming back to your side. As much as you wanted to do a deep dive, you couldn't afford the time and instead returned to your medical records. Nothing to see here, no snooping of any kind. Completely, totally innocent. 

"The doc's going to give you a once over. I got a thing to look in on, but I'm just a holler away." You looked up as Jesse planted a hand on your shoulder, squeezing as if to reassure you. "Stay out of trouble now."

You couldn't tell if he'd seen you meddling, smiling at you with a spark in his eyes that seemed to lock you in place. It was the look a cat gave the bird when it flew too close thinking it was asleep. "... sure."

He dropped his hand and nodded at Dr. Ziegler, leaving as she drew you back to one of the examination tables. You'd just been getting used to him, and now that you were alone with the doctor you half wished he would have stayed."I told him I was fine," you managed to mutter as you climbed up on the table, anxiousness creeping back from wherever it had been hidden. "I wasn't... hurt."

"There are different kinds of hurt," she answered simply, turning back to activate the holographic console beside the bed so she wouldn't have to go back and forth. "You may not have been physically harmed, but what you experienced... that was an ordeal. I'm sorry it happened to you."

It was a trial not to fidget, biting your tongue as Dr. Ziegler went about her exam. She was checking your eyes, your pulse, making notations in your chart as she asked a question here and there. While your nerves were settling, there was an uncomfortable buzzing in the back of your head the more she poked and prodded. Like you were waiting for a storm to break.

"I apologize," she began, putting in the last few adjustments to your chart and powering down the holoscreen. The way her hands were hesitating over the controls, how she avoided looking at you, it seemed to agitate the buzzing more. "Jesse explained what happened in the hallway before you arrived. Could you tell me...?"

She trailed off, not that she needed to finish. You knew what she was asking, and your brain froze for a moment before you shook your head. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." Your throat was getting tight again, and you fought the fear down tooth and nail to keep it from swallowing you up again. 

Why did they keep reminding you of it? Why wouldn't they just let you be. It was painful, and behind that was fury. Rage at your helplessness, at the operatives for dragging you in to this mess... and behind that your parents. That nagging, aggravating thought that maybe this was all their fault too.

That realization was enough of a shock to wake you from the spiral of fear threatening to choke you.

"I didn't know mom was a field agent." The words startled you almost as much as they surprised the doctor, though she was quick to smile through it. You were beginning to notice the calming aura she almost radiated, nodding down at you as she made another note to your chart.

"Ja. She was one of the field medics, before she decided to enter into the medical research division." The way she spoke, you almost couldn't believe it. You'd never heard any of this, never knew any of it. Your mother had been a _doctor_ , working in hospitals and labs. The idea of her running around in a combat zone, bullets flying... 

Dr. Ziegler chuckled, going to her desk and rummaging around for a moment before coming back and gently pressing a framed picture into your hands. "This was taken the last time she was in the field." 

Sure enough, there she was, surrounded by a team of people you didn't recognize. They looked battered, a photo to commemorate a successful job probably, but in the middle of it there she was. Dressed in an Overwatch strike uniform, her arm around a man as she teased him. 

"What... made her decide to change?" You murmured, staring down at the bright face. She looked like someone who would never change her path. Not when she loved it so much. 

The question made Dr. Ziegler pause, glancing down at you as if trying to decide how to answer. For a few seconds you didn't think she would, or she'd say something like 'I couldn't begin to know.' 

"She was injured during one of the operations." The doctor began, mulling over her words carefully. "When they returned to base, she was treated. The examination uncovered her pregnancy and she was withdrawn from the field."

Pregnancy?

"Mom was... she was pregnant with me?" You turned you eyes back down to the photo in your hands, your brain trying to adjust the idea you'd had of your mother. "Can I keep this?"

"Of course." Dr. Ziegler smiled, helping you down from the table. "Come, let's find you something to eat. It wouldn't do to let you starve now that you've only just arrived."


	4. Green Cyborg Ninja Dude

Food had sounded good at the time. Like when some one says, 'hey, let's go out' and you think sure, I could eat something. You weren't really hungry, but you just wanted the excuse to leave wherever you'd been. Sitting across from Dr. Ziegler, poking at an untouched plate of food, you'd realized that was why you'd agreed... and also that she had given you an out without forcing you to ask.

The doctor was quietly sipping on tea, or coffee, looking down at the picture you had brought from the infirmary like a toddler clutching a stuffed animal. She wasn't that pressed to talk it seemed, waiting for you to speak but unconcerned if you chose to stay quiet. An uncomfortable silence, at least for you.

You stopped fiddling with your food, sneaking another look at Dr. Ziegler as she smoothed the picture out on the table with a hand. There was a shadow to her eyes, but it was hard to tell what she was thinking. The best you could make out was 'guarded'. For a moment you wanted to be angry, to vent your frustration at being treated like you were a child. So many secrets kept, to 'protect' you... for all it mattered. You were still trapped under this bloody mountain in the middle of the ocean, just as ignorant as you had been the day before.

The only difference being that now you _knew_ people were keeping things from you. Somehow... somehow that just made the sting worse.

"Last I heard, Overwatch wasn't a thing any more." You began, with all the subtlety of a drunk moose. You had so many questions, each one spinning and spiraling in your head, and this seemed at least the place to start before you went poking and prodding elsewhere. 

Dr. Ziegler looked up from the photograph, nodding slowly as she brought the cup back to her lips with a thoughtful frown. "... Its true," she began with a sigh, "the Petras act essentially rendered any and all Overwatch activity unsanctioned. We are operating outside the bounds of the law for the moment." The frowned deepened, almost like she disagreed. 

"If you don't like it, why did you come back?"

This gave her a moment of pause, and she put the cup back on the table as she considered her answer. "Winston can be very... persuasive. And while we may not have been in much contact over the years, they are still my dear friends."

It was your turn to hesitate, your eyes flickering down to the picture. Looking at those faces, you wondered how many of them were still alive. How many came back. 

"She would have been proud of you." The words caught you off guard, your gaze jumping back to the doctor like you'd been caught sneaking a peak at something you shouldn't have. Dr. Ziegler, however, was all smiles. She nodded reassuringly, her hand creeping back to her cup.

"I feel like... like I didn't even know who she was. Not like I thought I knew her before." You reached out for the picture, sliding it to your side of the table. It was still jarring, seeing her in a combatant uniform and not the lab coat she always had on the few times you were able to visit her at a base, or even when she vid-called. 

You hadn't realized you were frowning when Dr. Ziegler gently squeezed your arm. It was enough to get your attention again, and when you looked up she was beginning to stand. "Whatever your mother kept from you," she began, helping you stand, "she did it to keep you safe. She loved you above all else: that hasn't changed."

She had her hands on your upper arms, squeezing, trying to get your attention as you met her gaze. "I want to believe that." Even as you said the words, you wished you hadn't. The doubt was there, creeping in like some kind of insidious thing. Breeding more questions as it passed, feeding on itself as it took root. Was that why she kept you away? Did she regret having you? That she had to put her career on hold?

"Listen to me," Dr. Ziegler's words weren't sharp, but her tone was enough to drag you back out of your mind and really look at her. She was so serious, one hand coming up to brush something from your face. "It hasn't changed. What she did, she did for you. Because she cared for you."

Hearing it... you almost believed it. The monstrous doubt was almost beaten back, but it wasn't destroyed. A tiny sliver curled up, muttering and whispering even as you forced yourself to nod. "Okay."

It was hard to tell if she believed you, but she relaxed with a sigh. "You must be exhausted. Everything that has happened, without a moment to breathe."

She wasn't wrong. You felt heavy with the need for sleep; drained both mentally and physically as you looked down at the plate of untouched food. It was worrying that after all this you still weren't hungry. 

"We'll try again in the morning," Dr. Ziegler said gently, pulling you from the table. For a wild moment you wondered if she had read your mind, but she only chuckled. She'd noticed, of course, and it probably meant more hovering over you the next few days.

Still... all things considered, you didn't mind. For the first time in a few days you could feel yourself relaxing inch by inch. Maybe you could actually sleep?

xxx

The key went into the lock with a metallic _skkkt_ , but the door hadn't been locked. That hadn't bothered you, which was odd, but you pushed the door open regardless. It was dark, the light bulbs burned out overhead. This wasn't the hallway to your house, another fact that should have at least made you nervous. It wasn't nerves poking at prodding at you, but curiosity. This place looked so familiar but--

The old house. The one where you'd lived with your parents for a short time. Before you really could remember anything. 

That thought made you stop, your hand on the wall as you looked at blurry pictures hung up in the hallway. Why were they blurry? You tried to take one down, but it was glued to the wall itself. You finally gave up after a moment, pushing forward down the long hall towards another door. It was bigger than it should have been, taking up more space and looking too heavy to move. Almost like it wouldn't budge...

_"Come in, hurry,"_

There was a voice on the other side, muffled, but it was enough to make you push on the door. You strained even as it creaked open. Damn, _why_ was it so stupid heavy? Or was it that it was big? 

The door finally opened enough that you could get through, though your success was short-lived. It slipped shut behind you, almost like you had been pushing against a force from the other side. That wasn't the most important thing in about the room, though. Nope. _That_ would be your mother standing there, just as you remembered her down to her lab coat.

_"Hey sweetheart."_

You didn't think about it, about how it was _impossible_ for her to be standing there grinning at you. About how she'd hidden her life before so expertly. How she didn't look a day older than that face you'd seen in the picture. You just wanted to latch on and pray this was all real.

Without realizing it you had tried to bolt forward, but the space between you just stretched long and longer. You couldn't keep up, even as you called out, reached out, something. She was trying to talk, but you couldn't hear it over the blood pounding in your head. You legs couldn't carry you any more, and you buckled over panting like you'd run a race. You were afraid to look up, because that might mean she was gone again because you didn't try hard enough.

_"I'm so sorry."_

That was enough to make you look up, to see your mother silhouetted against an roiling black fog behind her. She'd raised up her hand, a gun pointed at you as you froze there with your hands on your knees.

_"I'm sorry, sweetheart."_ The woman repeated, the cloud expanding behind her. There was a beast in that smoke, clawing its way out. You needed to warn her.

"Wait!" You leaped forward again, a maelstrom of chaos erupting around you. The woman pulled the trigger, but you never felt the bullet bite in to you. Instead, the cloud behind her tore open in a shower of red and orange flames like it was a living thing. The blast was like a furnace, scorching your face and arms and throwing you back as it enveloped your mother.

You woke with a shout, tangled up in your bedding and nearly throwing yourself to the floor in a panic. You could still feel the heat on your face, and for a few moments you forgot where you were. All that you had was the ceiling of the medical bay and the memory of your nightmare, the ghost of your mother's voice still ringing in your ears as you looked wildly about.

The clinic. You were sleeping in the clinic because they didn't have a place for you yet. The thought was soothing even as your heart kept racing, little pieces coming together to calm you down. You kept tugging at the lines of your thoughts, trying to come back completely without dissolving into a crying mess in the wake of the dream.

Dr. Ziegler had offered to let you bunk with her. It had been temping, and she'd been kind... but you'd refused. You sat up, rubbing your face as your legs dangled off the side of the make-shift bed. Your heart was throbbing now, and you rubbed your chest to try and calm down further. You'd told her no, because...?

Because you wanted unsupervised access into the computer.

The thought struck you like lightning, and your eyes snapped to the deactivated console at the desk on the other side of the room. You slid off the bed, bare feet padding across the cold metal floor and settling in the chair as the system began to power on. The screen began to flicker to life as you leaned back, waiting for the boot up to finish before you set to work. 

You were tired, overwhelmed... but there was something cathartic about just focusing on the work. You didn't have to think about the nightmares, or the black-masked monsters snatching you from your home. You didn't have to worry about all the things your parents had hidden from you. All that mattered, right now, was this computer in front of you. 

It was hard, wedging your metaphorical foot in the cyber door. You didn't have any of your regular tools or programs at your disposal, and the going was slow. You knew you were being overly cautious, careful to keep from setting off any alarms about your intrusion. Someone had updated and upgraded the systems in the time Overwatch had supposedly been defunct, but it hadn't been maintained. You had just the smallest crack to snake in, and once you were behind the wall it was a simple matter to start poking around. 

Guilt started eating away at your gut as you typed along, moving things around and changing the security protocols. The single-minded focus was beginning to wear away the more confident and less careful you became, stealing your mother's credentials from within the very system meant to keep it secure. She didn't have enough authorization on her own to freely navigate the servers and databases, but it was a start.

You started pushing, trying to expand your access permissions while justifying your breach... at least, to yourself. This would have been easier if you weren't worried about covering your tracks; it was habit, of course, but in the back of your mind you were worried about being caught. What it would mean if someone found you elbow deep in the secured files of what had once been a super power.

Almost like it was snapping into place, you finally broke completely through. Whole databases were suddenly there for the viewing, and you'd managed to give yourself top level access without so much as triggering a security blip. You sat back, wishing for something to drink and vaguely wondering what time it was. How long had you sat hunched, staring unblinkingly at the screen as you carefully picked your way through the net. It was hard to tell how long it had been, sitting in this darkened room.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you came back to the screen. All this data and you didn't know where to begin. You tapped your fingers against the top of the keyboard, fidgeting in place for a moment before you began to access the first database you'd seen when you'd first poked around the computer.

The monitor flickered, and for a moment you panicked when your mother's data seized up. You'd been _painfully_ careful when you broke through. There wasn't any way you could be detected-- but what if you'd made a mistake? 

You only began to calm when you saw that you had gained full access; emails, and files both for her research and work. There was a full section dedicated to vlogs, carefully organized and dated. You could look up other things, maybe find out where the hell dad was in this whole mess, or find something related to the Collapse...

Without realizing it, without meaning to, you'd navigated your way into her personal logs. ' _Just one peek,_ ' you'd told yourself, ' _to make sure it's her._ '

The log spun up, a young woman's face filling up the monitor with a grin. She looked so much younger, probably near the beginning of her career. You weren't listening to what the recording was saying, too stunned to do much more than stare at your mother. How long had it been since you heard her voice? Not the same one that had left that heartbreaking message, not the same words... this was new, completely different-- and it was easy to pretend that she wasn't gone in that split second before reality caught back up to you.

The door slid open as the recording played on-screen. Your eyes barely flicked from the monitor, too distracted to realize someone was entering the med bay when you did a double-take. Your first thought, as you froze in place, was that a glowing green robot was staring at you from the door. Your eyes widened, slowly trying to ease back from the desk like he wasn't watching you from the door.

It was wearing a visor, head cocked slightly to the side like it couldn't believe what it was looking at either. Your mind wasn't much help, either, a constant stream of _'this is bad, this is bad'_ playing in your head over and over again as you managed to stand. 

There weren't a lot of options. Not with him at the only door between you and freedom. He hadn't seemed inclined to move either, like he was waiting for you to take the first step and decide the tempo of the fight. You didn't have much in terms of weapons to defend yourself; all the desk had was a pencil cup and a keyboard. 

Your hand moved towards the cup, the visor moving being your only indicator that it was watching. It looked up again, taking a step into the room. "I would not do that."

The voice made you stop, the heavy accent was eastern by the sound of it. So it was a person in there, a man. Your fingers wrapped around the cup, eyes narrowing. "You going to try and take me too?" It had been the first thing you thought to blurt out, the first panicky assumption to rise to the surface after everything that had happened. It didn't make sense, being this deep in to the last Overwatch fortress still in operation. But then again none of this shitshow made any fucking sense.

"That depends," the voice answered calmly, taking another step into the room. "What have you done?" The visor looked down at the computer again, before coming back up to your face. 

And there went the pencil cup, before he could react sailing at his face. You'd chucked the thing before the idea could cross your eyes and give you away, trying to slip past him in the confusion. What you _hadn't_ anticipated was your master plan _failing_ , because the fucker _dodged_. He hadn't even stepped out of the way, just bending back out of its path, never missing a beat as his hand closed over your arm before you could race out the door.

You were yanked back, not quite off your feet but clearly not going anywhere. The grip was like a vise, not tight enough to hurt but he was being abundantly clear he wasn't about to let you go either. He wasn't paying you any mind now that he'd got a good grip on you, turning the monitor towards him as your mother's video continued to play.

"Stop--" You tried to pull away, to reach across him to turn it off, but he pushed you back and out of reach. "That's-- that's private."

"Yes, it is." The glowing visor turned back to you, the mask making your heart thunder like it was trying to climb up into your throat. "So how were you able to see it?"

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me a lot of trouble @.@ I almost didn't post it; I hope you guys enjoy it. --POE


	5. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo uhhhhhh
> 
> Because I think I'm funny I thought it would be a good idea to get an update out on easter (this obvs. didn't happen) because what better day to raise this fic from the dead right?
> 
> Its a bit on the longer side; I really should have continued the previous chapter but its whatevs. Its all here now, and a special thanks to my friend E.K. who's helped me through all the shenanigans.

It was hard to think, to focus, with a glowing green visor inches from your face. It was hard to know how to play this, how to work the angle when you couldn't see his eyes. 

Your mind was racing, trying and failing to think up some way to wriggle out of this. You'd been caught red handed, by an agent it seemed, going through sensitive data. It didn't matter that it was your mother's: there was no excuse that was going to explain what you were doing there. 

"Let me go," you murmured, yanking at your arm to try and slip past. It wasn't a _great_ plan, but it was realistically your only option.

The fingers squeezed, keeping a hold of you, but the man didn't seem too inclined to let go. "You will tell me what you were searching for," he repeated. The tone of his voice was low, the threat a quiet growl behind the words as his visor glared into your eyes. The best word for it was impassive, a neutral force that seemed like it could stay there holding you captive as long as it took to wring a confession out of you. 

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest, the blood rushing in your ears when the door behind you opened again. The green stare moved, drawn to the man half-stumbling into the med-bay with a few colorful swears.

"I heard you, dammit. I'm here, ain't I?" That was Jesse's graveled drawl, though your eyes were still glued to the man with a grip on your arm. Maybe the cowboy could get you out of this hole you'd dug yourself in to, but right now you could only focus on one thing at a time.

Jesse fumbled with the switch on the wall for a moment before the light flashed on overhead. The sudden burst of light blinded you for a moment, and you flinched to try and shield your eyes. The movement was enough to make the man jerk your arm, just this side of painful. It was a warning, the first indication that you were wearing out his patience, and you took the unspoken threat to heart.

"Genji?" The cowboy rubbed his face, chasing the last dregs of sleep from his eyes as he blinked at the pair of you. His face rumpled up into confusion, before his eyes drifted down to the computer's monitor and the stupid visual log that was somehow _still fucking playing_. "I see you got Athena's alert too."

He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his head. If you had to describe the look on his face, it was disappointed... and it left you wondering what you'd missed. You looked between the two of them, finally relaxing now that there was a familiar face. Genji, whoever he was, wasn't so easy to calm. 

"Who's Athena?" You blurted out, turning your head to watch as Jesse came forward. He stopped at the console, looking down and shaking his head before he waved off 'Genji'.

"I told you to stay outta trouble," he answered, ignoring your question. "You can let her go. She didn't mean no harm."

Genji let you go, a touch sore where he'd held you in place so long but otherwise none the worse for wear. If a minor bruise was all it cost you to get caught, you'd happily sign the check. You stepped back almost instantly, away from him and closer to Jesse. You could feel him watching, the way his visor turned as if monitoring you. It felt... unnerving. The way he stood and stared, stock still, a viper ready to snatch up a bird. 

"Why the hell is he creeping around like death?" You muttered to Jesse, taking another step back and rubbing once more at your arm. You heard him snort, trying and failing to muffle the chuckle bubbling up. You glanced at him, brows drawn together in consternation.

He shook his head, reaching out and patting you gently on the shoulder. "If only you knew how well you'd hit the nail on the head," he managed to answer between chuckles. "He's Genji. You could say we're... old friends."

The introduction did little to comfort you. It was strange, standing there as Genji watched you from behind the anonymity of his mask and visor. Imperious, that was the word. Silent and motionless.

"Who are you?" He asked after a moment, before he glanced down at the monitor again. Your mother's face was still on screen, the audio muted while the recording played. He seemed to linger on it a moment, before the visor came back up to take another look at you.

Truth be told you didn't want to answer. You were tired, still drained from the day before, and as you began to shake off the last few shreds of panic you were starting to get angry again. Angry, and mouthy.

"I'm the daughter." The words were a little more venomous than intended, to be sure, but now that you were certain this Genji wasn't going to hurt you, you were suddenly brave. Or stupid. The two seemed interchangeable at this point.

Jesse sighed, rubbing his face again as he pulled you back by the shoulder. "He probably woulda' been less hostile if you hadn't decided to go diggin' around things that you had no business snoopin' around in," he murmured quietly, almost as if to try and disarm the fight before it happened. 

He was right, and you hated it. The whole reason you were aggravated now was because you'd been caught red-handed, and you had no one to blame for it but yourself. You took a breath, blowing it out of your nose and shaking your head before you finally settled on folding your arms. 

"How'd I get caught," you finally grumbled, shaking your head. You were still mentally retracing your steps, going through every step you'd taken to try and figure out when you'd fumbled. It must have been when the screen flickered; you should have backed off completely. Logged out and feigned innocence and tried again later.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

"Athena found you when you attempted to enter the doctor's files," Genji began to answer, something that had surprised you. The way he'd been standing, staring, you weren't sure he'd talk outside of questioning you. "It was suspicious, when they were undisturbed for so long before now."

There was that name again, Athena. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but Jesse cut you off. His hand was pulling you back to the door, trying to disengage you from the man like he was afraid one or both of you would say the wrong thing. "If you'll excuse us." He was herding you to the door, and when you realized it you tried to push past him. You didn't want to leave, you wanted some _answers_.

"Jesse--" 

"We need to have a talk," He was moving you through the door now, the tone of his voice stopping you in your tracks, "about your manners when you're a guest in someone else's house."

"But--" 

"Git," he pushed again, a touch more firmly this time as you tried to turn. The last thing you saw before the doors closed was Genji looking down at the monitor, as unreadable and stoic as a statue. 

If you thought you were in trouble before, Jesse's insistent escort made you wonder exactly how deep in the shit you were. He marched along behind you, silent when he'd been so talkative before. It was unnerving, and the more you thought about it the more you worried that maybe you _had_ overstepped.

There was no maybe about it. You'd known the risks, and you'd skipped over them. 

Jesse guided you down a few more tunnels, to an elevator that dropped you deeper in the Rock. The journey finally seemed to end when the cowboy held his arm over the door to keep it from closing as you exited the lift. "The base isn't as staffed as it used 't be."

You glanced at him, still trying to unwind your jumbled thoughts while making sense of what he was saying now. "I didn't think it would be," you murmured back, eyes narrowing a touch in suspicion.

"You'll probably have this floor to yourself," he motioned further down the hall, "for a while, at any rate."

For a moment, you felt a brief flash of panic as you turned on the man leading your down. Were they going to lock you up down here, for just screwing around in an unsecured computer system? Was it really that big of a deal? The panic must have shown on your face, because he was quick to recover.

"It's-- it's not like that. If you're gonna stay here, you can't bunk in the med-bay the whole time." Jesse brought you to a door near the elevator, the first in a long stretch of hallway. He touched the panel beside it, and the door slid open. The hallway had seemed abandoned, dusty and deserted. But this... seemed fresher. "Go on. It's your's. Had it fixed up while you and Dr. Ziegler were talkin'."

The room was... bare. A desk, a closet. A door leading to what was probably a private bathroom. It looked almost like a dorm room that hadn't seen anyone living in it for the last several years. "I didn't realize Overwatch had a hotel down here." You murmured, going towards the other door. 

Jesse chuckled, leaning in the door frame as you explored. The tension that had been riding in his shoulders seemed to ease now that you were looking around. "We don't, but this was a watchpoint. There's barracks up above us, for the ol' rank and file soldiers. But the researchers and officers, they all got their own rooms." He waved his hand, motioning to the room as you opened the closet up. 

There were fresh clothes on the hangers, generic like they'd been made for Overwatch back before the Collapse. You pulled out a pair of sweats, glancing at Jesse as you checked the size. A little on the big side, but you could manage it. It would be nice just to get out of your old clothes and into something clean. Good lord, the idea of a shower was _divine_. "I don't... I don't need my own room. I can stay up in the barracks." You turned away again, shaking your head.

It felt awkward, like they were making a bigger deal out of this than it needed to be. You didn't need anywhere special to pass out. You weren't going to be here long. Right?

_Right?_

You heard him clear his throat behind him, but you were afraid to turn and look at him. Afraid of what you were going to see on his face, what he was about to say. None of this felt tangible yet: none of this could be real. As long as you didn't turn and look, this was all just a misunderstanding. As soon as you gave them your mother's message, they wouldn't need you and they could drop you back off at the corner near your house. Hell, if they did it tomorrow, you could still make it to work without missing a day.

You hadn't realized your shoulders were shaking when you caught yourself, forcing them to relax. Now that you were waking up, really waking up, everything seemed to be crashing all together at once. The more you thought about it, the worse it got. 

_So just don't think about it._

"Near as I can tell," Jesse began, standing up and away from the door frame as he folded his arms. You turned around, finally sitting on the bed as you clutched the sweats to your chest. Something to hold on to, to ground you, while the cowboy spoke. "Your mother was never stationed at Gibraltar. But your father spent some time here. This was listed as his room."

That was a shot to the gut. You jerked your head up, staring wide-eyed at Jesse as he nodded before he continued. "I had Winston double check, twice. This room's listed as his personal quarters before he got moved. It might not be the last place he bunked but, I figured... I figured it might help things. Stayin' where he was before." He rubbed the back of his head, almost like he wasn't certain what to say. "It's gonna be hard. We don' know how long you're gonna have to stay, but I wanted to make it easier than sittin' up there in the barracks next t' a bunch a empty beds."

Jesse grabbed the chair sitting at the desk, pulling it towards the bed so he could sit across from you. He was leaning forward, arms crossed as his elbows rested on his legs. He still looked so deathly serious, a far cry from the relaxed man you'd met earlier. It was almost like a weight was dragging him down, and he needed to get it off his chest before he could move on.

"I talked t' Dr. Ziegler after she put you t' bed." 

This wasn't going to go anywhere you were going to like. You sighed, shaking your head and dropping the sweats to your lap. "She said I was fine." Even to your ears it sounded like a whine; denial that anything was wrong. Your whole fucking world was falling apart but as long as you pretended you could hold it together. That's a healthy coping mechanism, isn't it?

"She said you didn' wanna talk, an' that's fine." Jesse pressed, reaching out and taking hold of your arm. You looked up into that suddenly too-serious face, his mouth set in a grim line as he held your gaze a moment before he continued. "But you should. Doesn't have t' be t' me, or even Dr. Ziegler. Just someone. You're not cut out for this kind of life, an' it'll catch up t' you when you're not lookin'."

Your jaw clenched so hard you nearly bit your tongue. He was wrong. He had to be, and all you had to do was bury this down deep like every other nightmare you'd ever had and you'd be fine. But the voice at the back of your mind, the one that usually gave you the bright ideas was screaming continuously, wordlessly. 

We're just going to shove that in a closet and hope it resolves itself eventually. 

It was too uncomfortable to think about right now. You didn't want to give that screeching thing in the back of your head a voice; you didn't want to seem weak, to seem helpless this far removed from danger. It already felt like they were treating you like a helpless princess, locked up deep and safe in the heart of some rock in the middle of the ocean. And that... that seemed almost worse. 

"Did you know dad?" You blurted it out before you could really think about what to say. Anything to fill the screaming silence in your head. Maybe if the subject dropped, changed into something more palatable, you'd forget again. And maybe if you kept forgetting, there would be a point where you just wouldn't remember it any more.

The question caught Jesse off guard. Enough so that he actually sat up, surprise written all over his face. He was quiet for a moment too long, the mood of the room changing. It wasn't you on the ropes any more, but him... even if it was a far more subtle change.

"In a manner of speakin'." He finally answered, sighing as he stood up. He was going through his pockets before he pulled out a phone. "We didn' cross paths much... but I got a good sense fer people." He held the phone out to you, almost like it was his turn to break off of the subject. "I got business t' attend to, before I can get dirty for Overwatch all over again. But my number's in there; call me, if y' ever decide ya wanna get to talkin'."

The air felt odd, almost charged as you stared up at him with narrowed eyes. There was something there behind his words, but you had a feeling that if you weren't going to share neither would he. You let your eyes drop down to the phone, finally reaching up to take it as he pressed it into your hands. 

"You're too clever for you're own good." Jesse said with a chuckle, moving the chair back to the desk as he headed for the door. "Y'need t' get better at stayin' outta trouble. Just keep your nose outta things before somethin' takes your head off."

"You're going to leave?" You asked, looking down at the phone. You didn't want him to go, and the thought scared you. You'd hardly known him, but he'd been your lifeline here... even if it was brief. 

He hesitated at the door, looking over his shoulder with a nod. "Like I said, other business t' manage before I can come back full time." He smiled, and that was... comforting. "Don't look so grim. Y' got Lena, and Dr. Ziegler. And Genji's not so bad when he's not bein' a spooky bastard. Just give him a chance."

You watched him at the door for a moment longer, before looking down at the phone and nodding. "Alright." The door opened, and you fought the urge to watch him go like a puppy. You settled for playing with the phone, scrolling through the screens like you were curious about what he'd given you. "See you around, I guess."

"For all the good it'll do, stay outta trouble now. They might not be as charitable as we've been."

That made you chuckle, and when you looked up again he was gone.

Alone again, you sat on the bed for a moment longer and soaked in your surroundings. It was small, but you didn't need much room anyway. You wondered who'd been here before you, if your father had really been in this room or if that had been a comforting lie to try and make this whole ugly process a bit easier to bear. 

It was finally starting to sink in, the reality of your situation. There wasn't going to be an easy fix, there wasn't going to be a short solution. Giving Overwatch the message your mother had left wasn't going to stop Talon from looking for you. From trying to capture you, for whatever reason. 

There was something off about this whole debacle. It didn't sit quite right, no matter how you looked at it. The more you tried to piece it together and make sense of it, the more confusing it became. You had the vague skeleton of a handful of questions, but you didn't even know what half of them were. 

What could you do now? What _did_ you have control over?

You got up and crossed the small room to the bathroom. A shower would help, and you turned the faucet to get the water just this side of blistering. The room started to fog up with steam, and already you started to feel better. You put the sweats on the counter near the sink, going back out in to the room just long enough to grab the matching sweat shirt from the closet before you came back in. 

Taking a deep breath of the warm air, you let everything drain out of your mind as you leaned over the sink. One day at a time. You just had to take this one day at a time, until you got a handle on things. Your face stared at you from the mirror over the sink, fogging up with steam as the water warmed up.

At least you looked more confident than you felt.

xxx

You hair was still wet from the shower, but atleast now you had some clean, fresh clothes on. Socks would have been nice, but when you searched the dresser you couldn't find any. You'd put your shoes back on, sitting on the bed and looking at the door. Hunger finally seemed to have found you, twisting your stomach in knots. 

You regretted not eating when you'd been up in the galley with Dr. Ziegler. You could feel your face making a scowl, debating whether you could find your way back to the kitchen and back again. Even if you got lost, its not like you could leave. It was a giant rock in the middle of the ocean, where could you possibly get to?

The door slid open, and you peeked out into the hall. It was silent, just as deserted as Jesse had claimed, and when you turned you could see the elevator at the end of the hall. You had a vague recollection of the path you'd taken to get here, but if you were going to find the kitchen you were going to have to backtrack to the med-bay and go from there.

It was hard to tell what time it was. The tunnels had no windows, no natural light to guess when it was was. It was quiet, still and empty as you wandered. You wanted to go slowly so you didn't get turned around, and when you found the med-bay you felt a flood of confidence. 

After some thought, you turned and followed the path the rest of the way back to the kitchens where you'd been with Dr. Ziegler just a few hours before. It hadn't been too far, right? You remembered passing that hallway and going left at the fork. Or had it been right?

You were committed at this point, and relieved when you heard someone in the room up ahead. Two people, judging by the sounds of quiet conversation drifting up and echoing off the walls. Relief changed to anxiousness, and you stopped short of the open door and the people inside. What if they were other agents you hadn't met yet? Would they stop you, like that Genji had?

Wait. You could afford to wait, and see--

"Does she know?" The accent, and the voice. You recognized it from the med-bay as Genji's. You stood there, frozen in the middle of the hall as you strained your ears while your heart pounded. Should you make yourself known? What would happen if they caught you again 'getting up to trouble'?

"No. Lena 'n Angela both want to keep her as far out of it as we can." Jesse. He hadn't left the base just yet. "And I'm inclined to agree."

There was silence, and for a moment you wondered if you were found out. You eased a step back, mentally mapping the way straight back to the elevator hunger be damned. 

"Why?" 

"Her mother worked hard to keep her outta Overwatch's shadow," Jesse said after a sigh. You could smell something burning, and you realized he'd probably lit his cigar. "She wanted to keep her safe, and not just from the bad guys. Look at how Captain Amari's kid turned out, raised in it like she was." 

There was another brief pause, Jesse probably taking a drag as he spoke. "If we go tellin' her stuff that happened-- stuff she can't change, we'll just be hurtin' her in the end. Atleast this way we can try 'n follow her mother's wishes. We owe the girl that much."

Everything started to churn, and you started feeling lightheaded. What the actual-- 

You were angry, before anything else. It burned up in your throat like fire, and you wanted to go barreling into the room and scream. To ask them what they knew, what happened, _anything_... but you hesitated. That part in the back of your head had finally stopped screaming, and it was warning you to be cautious.

If they weren't going to tell you anything, then you were just going to have to ferret it out yourself.

You eased back further into the hall and away from the kitchen as quietly as you could, too angry to think about eating. Too angry to really look them in the face, really. Everything had always been so secret, growing up. You never really were allowed to know where your parents were, what they were doing. Hell, you'd had to schedule times just to _call_. Even now, years after its destruction, Overwatch had still somehow managed to cling to all its secrecy. 

"It seems cruel, to hide this from her." Genji's voice broke through the seething maelstrom your thoughts had become, somber and quiet. It was gentle, the words and tone both giving the impression that he didn't agree with the others. It was enough to make you pause.

"Its messy no matter how you look at it," Jesse answered with a sigh. You could almost seeing him rubbing his face. "But its the best we can do." It was quiet again, and you weren't sure what was happening. There was a scraping, like a chair being pulled back and you almost bolted for the elevator. "Do me a favor, and keep an eye on her for me. And if not for her, then for that kind woman she was watchin' on the screen."

You couldn't afford to wait for the answer; it sounded like Jesse was getting ready to leave, and you didn't want to be found a second time with your nose where it didn't belong. You crept along as quietly as you could, all but fleeing to the elevator and your new room down below. 

All these secrets... it was getting _old_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the next couple chapters all outlined and set up, I just have to get the damn things written. Thank YOU guys for sticking with me this long, between the months long hiatuses. I appreciate every kudo and every comment. You guys are the REAL MVPs! -- POE


	6. No More Monkey Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another chapter. I think I'm getting the hang of this update thing. Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT -- Adjusted some minor formatting errors that weren't present before. The body of work is unchanged from the chapter I posted today (4/30).

It was a few hours at least when someone finally came to get you from your room. You'd spent the time dozing off, or sulking, chewing on everything that had happened since you'd arrived here on the Rock. Picking apart every detail of the conversation you'd eaves' dropped on.

You half expected it to be Jesse knocking on your door, but when you pressed your hand to the panel it was Tracer waiting for you on the other side. She smiled, bright and bubbly, and you couldn't help but return her energy despite the bitter splinter still agitating your heart. 

"Sleep well, love?" 

If only you had. "Well enough," you answered, stepping out of the room and in to the hallway beside her. When your eyes had closed, your dreams seemed to be swirling clouds of whispers and murmurs. The darkness was so total, so complete, it all but blinded you. You would wake gasping for air, your heart beating a mile a minute. "Is there any chance we could get something to eat?"

Tracer grinned, nodding as she turned on her heel and walked to the elevator. "Of course we can get you something to eat. You must be starved."

The ride up the elevator was a pleasantly quiet one, and you were thankful for that. Tracer didn't push you, didn't try to pressure you with leading small talk. She was just happy to be standing there beside you, and for the first time you felt yourself relax just the tiniest bit.

"Did you talk to Winston?" 

She glanced at you, eyes widening in surprise before she chuckled and nodded. "I did. He was a touch ruffled we didn't have a room prepared for you, but your rescue _was_ a fairly last minute arrangement."

You canted your head, surprised. You'd had almost two days to process that Talon was after you for whatever reason, but you hadn't given any kind of thought to how Overwatch had caught wind of it. Now that you'd actually thought about it, that was almost as odd as Talon making an attempt to take you. What had Jesse said, in the aircraft on the way here?

_"We might be in the hero business but we're not all-knowin'."_

"How did you know Talon was coming?" You watched Tracer out of the corner of your eye, holding the elevator door open when you reached the right floor. She blinked, face wrinkling up for a moment in consideration. 

"I don't know really," she admitted, brows still drawn together like she was thinking about it. "We left before I could ask. Jesse was very insistent that we didn't have time to wait."

_Jesse?_

You bit back the surge of suspicion: just another dangling thread that wasn't loose enough to pull yet. There was plenty of time to sort that out later, and right now all you could think about was food. It was all you could do not to try and run to the kitchen, all but scooping up the first thing you found and shoving it in to your face. 

It smelled like breakfast, and when the pair of your finally entered the kitchen Tracer sat you down at a table before zipping off in a flash of blue light to grab food. It was jarring, seeing it happen up close and in such a mundane setting was a touch unnerving. One moment she was there, and then in a blink she was gone. Another blink, and she had returned, putting a plate of food down in front of you and another for herself.

"There you are. Dig in!" She was smiling again, like it was nothing. Probably because it _was_ nothing for her, though it was still something new for you. You'd lived a quiet life among normal people and omnics, and seeing all of this up close...

Was this what it was like for mom and dad? Living and working at Overwatch controlled bases, around 'heroes'?

She noticed you staring, her face falling to a look of concern. "Everything alright?" 

You snapped out of it, shaking your head as you looked down at your food. You had been _ravenous_ before, but now it took real effort to pick up your utensils and start eating. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"What about?" Why did she have to be like that: so concerned, so thoughtful? 

You looked up at her again, forcing yourself to relax, to offer a smile despite how forced it felt. "Wondering about mom and dad, that's all." 

Tracer seemed taken aback by the answer for a moment, her eyes widening before she grinned at you again. "They'd be proud of you, you know."

It was your turn to be surprised, all but dropping the food back to your plate as you looked over at her. "What?"

"All that's happened, not every one could have held it together as well as you have." Tracer said, eyes back on her own plate as she went about her breakfast. "Not every one would have been able to escape Talon as long as you did, before Jesse and I came to gather you up. But some how, you managed. I think they would be very proud to have such a resourceful daughter."

You could feel tears prickling the corner of your eyes, but you fought the feeling. But the other feeling, the warmth spreading from your chest outward... it was calming. You took another mouthful of food, anything to try and process the swell of emotions as Tracer watched you with that gentle smile. She had a way of waiting that made it seem like she hadn't noticed how choked up you'd become, saving your pride. 

The pair of you ate in silence for a few moments, Tracer giving you time while you thought over everything she'd said against what you'd already experienced. Would it be so hard to talk to her? You took another bite, eyes locked on to the plate to keep from looking up. 

It seemed silly to talk, to voice fears and worries when you felt as if you'd got over them. You shook your head a moment, sighing. Got over it? That was a joke. But the fact of the matter was you weren't going to say a goddamned word. Not now. 

"How long do you think I'll have to stay on the base?" You finally asked, your food nearly done. 

Tracer gave you a thoughtful look, pushing her plate away and folding her hands on the tabletop. She seemed more serious now, reminding you of that face she'd made when she'd talked you into boarding the airship. A face that was starting to fill you with dread.

"We're not sure," she finally answered, the light and laughter seeping away and being replaced by her earnest words. "There's no telling _why_ Talon was interested in you in the first place. We'll just have to keep an eye on you until things work out." She smiled, trying to be reassuring as she stood up from the table. "I know it's serious, love, but try to keep your chin up. We'll get it all sorted before you know it, don't worry."

Of all the answers she could have given, that one probably ached the most. The last nail in the metaphorical coffin; you were trapped here until... whenever Overwatch deemed it was safe enough for you to leave. You sat quietly for a while, the remainder of your food sitting forgotten on your plate as you pushed it around.

Did anyone know you were missing yet? Had one of your friends made a report to the police? What would happen when you didn't show up to work? You sighed, leaning back from the table before you stood up to clear your plate and put it away. You were a ghost now, and it looked like you were going to be haunting Gibraltar until it was safe enough to resume your life.

"You alright?" 

You'd almost forgotten Tracer had been there with you, and when you looked up you could see the worry on her face. It made you wonder if Jesse had told everyone about your little episode in the hall when you'd re-lived your near kidnapping. You looked away before she could the embarrassment on your face, quickly distracting yourself with something else before you could let anything slip.

"I'm fine," you murmured, putting the plate on a tray. "Just... thinking how this isn't even on the list of worst things I've heard the last two days," you turned back, face carefully smiling to hide the roiling emotions beneath. You _were_ fine; you didn't have any other choice. Screaming wouldn't change things. Breaking down and crying wouldn't fix it. 

It was almost a relief when Tracer didn't press the issue. "It's a lot to take in," she murmured as she came up beside you and took the tray. "But we'll get it all sorted. You'll be back home in no time."

As much as you wanted to believe her, you didn't think it would be so easy. There was too much you didn't know, too much everyone was too scared to tell you. You half regretted getting on the airship, but now that you were here...

"What do we do now?" You followed her out of the kitchens after the pair of your had cleaned up. There was a prickling feeling marching up your arms, and you rubbed at them to help ease the sudden stifling tension. 

Tracer didn't answer for a moment, leading you back towards the elevator. She just shook her head, mouth pressed in a line like she didn't want to say the words fighting to come out. The silence was fraying the last of your nerves, and you stopped dead in the hallway. You grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around to force her to look you in the eye.

"What?" All this dancing around, you couldn't take it any more. You just wanted one person, _one_ person, to treat you like you weren't some fragile thing that would shatter at the first gentle breath of a breeze. You deserved that much, you'd proven it. 

The woman stood there, shoulders tensed up like she was still struggling to keep her mouth shut when the words finally came tumbling up. "We need to see it. If you're up to it." You must have looked bewildered, because she reached out to take hold of your arm. "The message your mother sent."

You'd been confused before, but now you were stunned. You'd completely forgotten about it in the time you'd been here, but hearing Tracer remind you brought it all back to the surface. It had been one of the first things she'd asked about after you'd met on the airship. 

That stupid, awful vidcall.

"Of course." You pulled back, and now it was you turning away. How could you forget? 

"We wanted to wait until you'd settled in," Tracer had her hand on your arm still, trying to get you to face her once more. You could hear the apology in her voice, the remorse. "I know its not fair, love. If we could avoid it--"

"You would have," you finished for her. She'd said that before, and as much as you were dreading this you believed her. "I know." You brought a hand up, letting your hand slide across your face to try and steel your resolve. "I need... I need access to a satellite link."

The two of you stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. The halls were empty, and for a fleeting moment you wondered what it had been like here when Overwatch had been an organization that everyone wanted to be a part of. What it had been like when the watchpoint was filled to capacity. Anything to distract from the tightness in your throat.

The hand on your arm squeezed, and you finally faced Tracer again. "You don't have to do this right now, love. No one would blame you." 

You almost latched on to that idea like it was a lifeline: the perfect excuse and she was serving it up to you with a take-out receipt and a smile. Save this shit for another day. Take your get-out-of-jail-free card and run screaming for the door like it was a lottery ticket. 

You took a deep breath in, holding the air in your lungs to try and lighten up the suddenly heavy thoughts dragging you down. "It won't be any easier later. Can we just... can we just get it over with?"

There was a strange kind of pain in her eyes, and you knew she almost wanted you to refuse them. That was comforting itself, knowing that Tracer knew the gravity of their request. The severity of it. She wasn't asking lightly, out of some morbid curiosity. If there had been some way to get around it, you had a moment of perfect understanding that she would have done whatever was in her power to get it done.

The fact that she was asking at all meant that Overwatch was out of ideas, out of answers... and _that_ was beginning to scare you.

xxx

Winston wasn't quite what you expected.

He was a face for Overwatch, that much was true. You'd grown up seeing him all over posters, in museums talking about the Overwatch Generation and the age of heroes. But it was one thing, seeing an image of him up on a wall, and another one entirely to be standing on the other side of a table across from him.

"Hello." Hearing him talk was just the icing on the cake. Not that his voice was bad, or grating. It was just jarring, talking to him.

You blinked at him for a moment, trying to think what to say. Did you have small talk first? Did you pretend that you weren't stranded her because some terrorist organization had it out for you? Don't think about that.

"... hi." Start small. Work your way out from there. Just because he was a gorilla didn't mean you couldn't have a normal conversation. Here, in an abandoned pseudo-military base for a defunct organization that could no longer legally operate without being in open opposition of the law.

Totally normal. A typical Wednesday morning.

"I... I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances." Winston shook his head almost immediately after, and you had to fight the urge not to chuckle from the look on his face. "I mean, not that we've met. But the situation that brought us together."

You smiled, the tension breaking like a fever. You'd expected him to be tense; no-nonsense. But here he was, just as nervous as you were. Kind, and polite. 

"Mom used to tell me about you when I was little." Maybe if you broke the ice a little more, it would be less stressful for the both of you. Maybe it would make this whole shitshow that was about to commence _bearable_.

If he could blush, you bet you'd see pink in his cheeks. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, fiddling nervously. How could someone his size be nervous? "Ah... good things, I hope?"

You nodded. "She said you were one of the smartest minds she'd ever met." 

The quiet stretched on, taking an almost bitter turn. It had been a mistake, bringing her up. Because now it just brought the focus back to why you were there. 

"She was a good person." Winston answered quietly, carefully. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Did you know her?"

"We worked together, once or twice." He shifted from arm to arm with discomfort, and you were sorry for bringing her up at all. "She was very... dedicated. In everything she did."

Dedicated. That was a good word for it. You looked up at Winston, Tracer quietly moving about the room. You were glad she stayed, thankful for the company. You'd been so eager before, loosening up, but now all you wanted was to be over this. 

"What do you need me to do?" It was an abrupt change of topic even for you, but the claws were digging in again. The knot was coming back in full force, twisting on itself. As much as it hurt, you knew it was worse just waiting for the shoe to drop. The faster you ripped off this band aid, the faster you could go back to ignoring the festering wound it had become.

Winston cleared his throat, casting a look at Tracer before he set his eyes back on you. "I know Tracer already explained the situation you're in." He looked serious, and you were sure you would feel reassured if you weren't already starting to feel the creeping numbness spreading out from your chest. "We're going to find out why Talon is interested in you, I promise."

You sighed, shaking your head. "You didn't bring me to Gibraltar to give me assurances." You squared your shoulders, mentally preparing yourself. "You brought me because you needed the message." The table you were standing around had a similar holographic set up to the one in the aircraft that had brought you here. You leaned over the console, pressing a few keys to bring up the menu for an uplink.

"I know you need to see it," you continued, murmuring almost too quietly to hear. Or maybe it was the pounding in your ears starting to make things muffled. "I just... don't think it will help." 

You felt someone's hand on you shoulder, and when you glanced up you realized Winston had moved to be standing beside you. The look on his face almost too much to bear, and you were quick to break your gaze away and continue working the console. 

"If its too much, we can stop. There isn't any point rushing."

There was every point rushing. Why was everyone so eager to drag this torture out?

"It's alright." The words that came out of your mouth didn't match the ones in your head, but you were determined. The satellite connected and in a flash the holographic screen lit up over the table in a burst of golden light. 

You took a steadying breath, eyes fixated on the screen. You'd had years to practice this; focusing on one thing at a time to keep the crushing feeling in your heart from overwhelming you. You just had to access your personal storage from work; its where you'd kept the original, under lock and key behind an invisible ghost drive you'd set up behind your other little secrets. 

Tucked away and hidden from prying eyes, and here you were logging in for them. 

It was innocuous, that media file tucked away in a folder all by itself. The name was just a string of numbers, the day you wished hadn't happened. Why was it so hard to just... to just push the button. You stood there, staring at the numbers too long with the cursor hovering over it like it would take a piece of your to press it. A piece you didn't think you'd get back.

Your eyes slid from the screen, to Tracer standing opposite you. The look on her face was enough, sad and pitying, and when you looked back into the light you'd already pressed down on the pad to start the message.

Your mother was suddenly there in a flash of light, perfectly preserved since the day she'd died. There was the shadow of something in her eyes, and to this day you couldn't make it out--

_"Hey, sweetheart."_

Every time, it was like a stab to the gut.

The hologram cleared her throat, reaching up to push the hair out of her eyes. She always looked so tired, on the verge of exhaustion. You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to keep your eyes on her image and not look away. You were strong enough now. You'd done it before.

_"I'm sorry that we won't-- we won't get to have that talk."_ She looked down, away from the lens that was recording her, before she brought her face back up again. You could see the beginning of tears in her eyes, but her voice didn't crack. _"You're going to hear some things, about your father and me in the next couple of days. I just want you to know..."_

She swallowed, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth before shaking her head. _"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I wish we could have been there more. I wish-- I hope you know, everything your father and I did, we did to make your life better than ours was."_

There was a crack in her voice, the tears catching up to her. You leaned back, hanging your head as you listened to her breaking. You couldn't leave, not now. You had to hear it all. You'd done it before. Just one more time.

_"I need you to do something for me,"_

It hurt to hear, between the pounding in your head and the burning in your chest. _"By the time... I don't think I'll be here. And you need to know, you need to understand that that's okay."_

You could feel your hands going numb. 

_"You can take care of yourself, sweetheart. I know you'll be fine."_

You didn't remember standing up from the console. You didn't remember all but running for the door. One moment you were listening to her, telling you what she didn't have time to say, and the next you were standing in the hall, huddled against the door clutching your heart with tears running down your face. 

You pulled your hand away from you chest, covering your mouth to muffle back the sob threatening to claw its way out. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall besides the door letting it out through your nose. It had been a while since you last watched, though you'd never let any one else see it. This had been your's, and only your's... 

But that wasn't the case any more was it?

There was something wrong, and your head snapped up as you looked down the hallway. God, you were being paranoid. There wasn't any one watching you, despite the prickling at the back of your neck. It felt like someone had their eyes on you, but the tired, reasonable part of your brain was screaming that was because you felt so emotionally exposed.

Turning around, you planted your back against the wall and slid down so you were sitting next to the door. You brought your knees up, arms resting on your legs as you tried to get yourself back under control. You buried your face in your hands, leaning forward and tucking yourself against your knees. 

It would feel so good to scream, but you held it back. When was this awful thing going to end?

"I'm sorry, love." 

You flinched like someone had hit you, and when you looked up through the gap in your fingers you could see Tracer kneeling beside you. She was careful not to touch you, one hand helping to keep her balanced against the wall as her other one hovered like it didn't know where to go

It took you two attempts to speak, swallowing past the lump in your throat when you finally dropped your hands to hug your knees. "Is it... over?"

Tracer nodded slowly, her hand finally settling on your knee. "A few minutes ago." She said gently, and you felt a pang of guilt. How long had you been sitting in the hall, melting down like this? "I wanted to give you some time," she added quickly. "You look... you looked like you needed it."

You did. It felt like something had been pulled out of your heart, a hole in your chest that wasn't physically there but felt like a raw ache each time you breathed. You thought it would get better over time, but it never got easier. You just got better at masking the hurt. 

"... thank you."

She stood up, holding a hand out to you to help you stand. You rubbed your face one more time, before taking her hand and climbing heavily to your feet. Before you realized it, her arms were around you pulling you into the biggest bear hug you'd ever been a part of.

The ache started to fade, little by little. The twinges disappearing and lessening the longer she held you. By the time she let go they were nearly gone, and when she pulled back there was a look on her face that you couldn't quite decipher. "What's wrong?"

"There was something," Tracer began, almost like she wasn't sure what to say at first. "Athena found something attached. Winston is analyzing it now."

"Attached...?"

"Winston seems to think that your mother smuggled something out, and used the message disguise it before anyone would notice."

This was... news. You'd scanned it every which way you could think of, and nothing had come up. So why now?

The door slid open and you walked back in, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You would have killed for a distraction, and here was one on a silver platter. Winston was staring at the screen as you returned, eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher the mess on screen.

"What is that?" He looked away from holographic display, almost like he was surprised you'd returned at all. Not that you could blame him; you hadn't planned to step foot back in this room but this was important. This was _interesting_.

"Some kind of executable file encoded in the message." Winston muttered back, returning to the date on screen. "It began to activate after the playback finished. Athena has it in quarantine until we figure out what it's trying to do."

"Athena?" You'd heard that name thrown around, and you were starting to get annoyed. You hadn't met her yet, but she must have been a technological wizard the way they kept talking.

" _I am responsible for the computer systems operating Overwatch._ " 

"And a fucking AI." You said aloud, looking up at the ceiling like you half expected some kind of techie gremlin to appear out of the ceiling. For a split second you felt a pang of frustration for your earlier hacking attempt. "That's how I got caught isn't it? That's cheating."

" _You were attempting to gain unauthorized access to a restricted database._ " If Winston heard her he didn't seem to bothered, scanning through the screen as you argued with the computer. 

"I wasn't--"

"It was a reaction to being played on Overwatch systems." Winston isolated a portion of the code on screen, expanding it. Sure enough, there it was. That explained it; it was so deeply buried you would never have found it without knowing what to look for.

You came up beside Winston, squinting at the screen. "Have you run a scan on it yet?"

" _It is Overwatch in origin. It does not appear malicious in nature._ "

You moved through a few lines of the code, pulling back for a larger view of things. It didn't look like it was compatible anywhere else. The thing could have been stripped from the message and opened up but you doubted it would have worked anywhere else without substantial tweaking.

"You gonna play nice, Athena?" You muttered, shaking your head. Everything about this felt odd, almost surreal. "Can you tell me what this particular file wants to do?" You started extricating it from the message, peeling it back. It was a tangle of codes, wrapping itself around the video file like armor. You didn't want to damage it, and part of you was dying to figure out what had been hidden under your nose for five long years.

Five years that could have given you better answers than just, "We think it was an accident."

" _It appears to be an access portal._ "

"Access to what though?" You took another hard look at the screen, chewing on your thumbnail while you all but glared. How deep was this hole going to go. 

"Would it be possible to activate while it was in quarantine?" Winston was standing next to you, staring just as transfixed at the screen as you were. You'd half forgotten he was in the room.

The lights changed, going from golden to blue as Athena opened up the quarantined portal. The screen blinked, almost like it was reacting to something already on the servers before a new screen appeared. Dozens of folders lined up neatly across the screen, blue and red spreading out like some kind of colorful bloom.

"Its..." You opened one of the folders, schematics flying across the screen. "Is this... a database?"

Winston adjusted his glasses, before he zoomed in on another folder. "It looks like a research directory."

Research directory?

You poked around a bit more, pushing through the rest of the code and pulling up what you could. "This is all saved to the primary servers," you said as you pulled up a red folder. Whatever had been in it before was gone now, garbled and shredded to pieces. Your first thought was that someone had tried to steal it, and damaged it in the process... but that wasn't the case. These should have been fine; isolated, in their own drive--

"Wait." You withdrew completely, trying to follow the path from memory of the damaged drive. " _Wait_."

"What's wrong?"

"She-- she buried all of this and attached it to other databases." The access portal was the key to get in, but it was also the thing that let you _see_ all of the ghosts scattered across the server. It was clever, hiding things in plain sight. People would have looked for something hidden. But if it was buried in other databases, places that no one would think was any importance. "This is all mom's research. She has it scattered around to make it harder to get at _but its all here_."

There was a manic feeling welling up in your chest now, a reason behind the chaos. It didn't change any thing, but at least you were getting somewhere. You turned to look at Winston, your hands still pressing down on the console like you were drowning but finally got hold of a raft. "What happened to the rest of it? Why is it damaged?"

He didn't answer for a moment, his forehead wrinkled in like he was trying to think. "... There was a raid. Talon managed to get access to the servers." Winston shook his head, like he was embarrassed or ashamed. "I thought they'd only stolen the Agent database, but..."

"But?"

"We're still trying to run diagnostics and find what else they stole."

And there it was. You stood there, staring with your eyes wide as he met your gaze with one of his own. It was unfathomable, completely impossible-- and just your bloody luck.

"That's how Talon found out about me?" You asked, voice small and quiet. He nodded, his shoulders slumping. You turned back to the screen, the red files suddenly more concerning than you had thought before. It would be one thing, if they'd been damaged... but stolen. You didn't even know what was in the damn things, and now they were out of your hands. "How do we get it back?"

Winston shook his head. "We can't risk putting you in harm's way. We're--"

"I'm already knee deep in harm's way, Winston." You leaned against the console, waving your hand at the hologram as it shimmered next to you. "And you're criminally understaffed. Do you even have anyone that can help you pull this mess apart, or have you been relying on just the AI?"

"You're mother was very clear. She wants you to be safe." He stepped away from the table, almost like he was trying to pace around the table. 

You snorted, throwing your hands up. "I know what mom wanted. Everyone keeps _telling_ me, and I get it. She wanted to protect me." The image shimmered again, Athena powering down the portal so that a more thorough analysis could be run. "But what about what I want? I'm not eleven anymore. And she's not... she's not around."

It was a huge effort to not let your voice crack, but you pushed through. You had to. "You just watched her good bye letter. I deserve to be here." Your eyes followed him as he paced back and forth. You wondered at the back of your mind if Tracer would have backed you up, or if she would have taken Winston's and your mother's side.

Probably best not to think about it. 

"I can help you. I can help get all of her stolen research back, and Overwatch's data too." You finally broke away from the console, following Winston. "I didn't have a choice growing up, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't have one now."

Winston stopped his pacing, turning to face you. He was silent, and all you could do was try and stare him down. You had your hands planted on your hips, tears dried on your face, but you wanted this. It gave you something else to think about, something to focus on. 

"Is this really what you want." Winston asked, moving toward you. He had a grim set to his face, brow furrowed. "You're sure?"

Were you sure? You hesitated for the briefest of moments, everything racing through your head. Two days ago you were at work, minding your quiet life and counting the hours until you got home. Now? Now you were so deeply embroiled in the chaos you didn't know what was up and what was side ways. 

"Yeah. Yeah I'm sure."

xxx

You were ready to collapse by the time you dragged yourself back to your room down in the lower floors of the base. Today was a blur, and it wasn't even half done... but lord if it hadn't taken its toll.

Winston had promised he'd get you your own set of credentials. No more sneaking around trying to wriggle past a terrifyingly aware AI. In fact, she was probably going to be the closest thing you had to a coworker the for the foreseeable future. Tomorrow the two of you would start picking through the wreckage of the ravaged Overwatch servers, seeing what could be saved and what couldn't.

What kind of program could tear through something like Athena and leave chewed up code in its wake? You sighed, leaning against the door frame as the door slid open. You'd find out tomorrow, at least. Hell, maybe whatever it was could be reversed. Winston had said he'd kept the original device, though it was crushed. Athena had the virus in deep quarantine. There was plenty of stuff to sift through, but right now you just wanted to lay down.

There was something on your bed that hadn't been there when you'd made it this morning. A torn picture, and a ring placed on top of it. You turned it over in your hand, checking inside the band when the inscription caught your eye. 

_For my husband_.

You glanced at the photo after a moment, nearly dropping the ring when you realized who it was. It was your mother, a few years younger than you remembered, but her all the same. It looked like she was in some kind of medical setting, working on... someone. You could see an arm, cybernetic in nature, but little else where the photo was torn in half. 

She hadn't been aware of the picture, her attention completely focused on the arm and its owner out of view. Hell, what would she think? 

You sat down on the bed, your hand wrapped around the ring as you stared at the picture like it was the most important thing in the world. She would think you were being reckless. This wasn't what she wanted for you, that had been made exceptionally clear to you in the short time since you'd arrived... but.

But, what about what you wanted?

There was a nightstand next to your bed, and after a moment of thought you kicked off your shoes and leaned it up against the lamp so it was standing up and easily seen from the pillow. The ring sat near it, the gold a bit tarnished as the light flickered out. 

Tomorrow, everything would start. Tomorrow, you'd have more answers than today. 

_Tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo yeah. Things are heating up! I'll try to get another chapter out by friday, but if all else fails its starting to look like monday or tuesday are going to be my go-to update days. I hope you guys have a great day! -- POE


	7. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I can keep to a schedule. One day. Enjoy the chapter <3
> 
> EDIT:: Some minor fixes and editing. I should stop posting these at 3am lol

Tomorrow came and went in a blur of days that all seemed to blend together.

Mornings started in a rush, usually waking up late because you decided it was a good idea to work late into the night because just _maybe_ you would get lucky with a breakthrough that slipped just out of reach. You would hurry through the halls and up to the lift, passing by the kitchens to grab something hand friendly to eat before finally getting up on to the deck. Hours upon hours of staring at a screen trying to peel things apart...

And it repeated.

You'd been here for almost two months now. Days spent squinting and typing, sifting through the wreckage of the server as you tried to untangle the disaster Lamprey left behind in the servers. Athena had done good work confining the virus before getting it quarantined, but the issues it had caused were still popping up now and again.

Data that had been torn apart had to be manually scanned, assessed, and rebuilt from the inside out. It didn't help that the data it _couldn't_ mangle, whether from Athena's own actions or blocked from access in general, was scrambled and shifted around. 

It was almost like an agent of total chaos. It avoided the core systems (and the more intense security measures), attacking the databases instead. Stealing what it could and trashing the rest, a burglar destroying the house to keep you from really knowing what it had stolen. 

An absolutely vicious piece of code. You sat back in the chair, rubbing at your eyes as you felt the familiar pull of tension just before a headache struck. Lamprey was a good name for it; the way it acted, it was a leech brute forcing its way through a firewall by means of actual mechanical insertion. It deployed its own virus to further compromise security, while sucking down and uploading data seemingly at random. The paydata was then literally torn apart to prevent the server from recognizing its own files, and the computer itself did the rest by attacking its own systems like an immune response.

" _You've been working uninterrupted for six hours._ " Athena had dimmed the screens a bit, probably scanning your vitals. You leaned your head back, pushing the chair away from the console. " _Perhaps it is time for a break?_ "

A break would be nice... but there was still too much to do. You rubbed your face again, sitting up and moving back to the keyboard. "No. We're almost done with this set; I don't want to leave it undone if I can help. it." The headache seemed to spike up a touch, and you shook your head as if you could physically dislodge it.

" _I must insist. Your dedication is appreciated, but I'm afraid that it should not come at the cost of your health._ "

You chuckled, leaning back in the chair again and closing your eyes. "That obvious, huh?" It felt nice not to be staring at a screen for a moment, holographic or otherwise. Sighing, you opened your eyes and stared up at the ceiling. "I didn't think it would be so... complicated."

The screen blinked a few times, and when you glanced at it you could see Athena still working through the current database. You'd developed some code that was making things easier, if not just a touch faster than manually scouring the files. It had tagged everything Lamprey had come in contact with, allowing Athena to 'see' the files again and repair them as much as she was able to. It let you get a better idea of what else had been taken, besides the Agent database Reaper had specifically targeted.

She didn't need you here while she did that. One of the perks of an AI assisting you; while you were helpful in the beginning, once you got her set up she could work faster than you ever dreamed. With a groan you stood up from the chair, stretching your back and rolling a shoulder. "I guess it couldn't hurt to take a walk."

You watched the monitor for a moment longer, your eyes drifting to the work pad sitting on the edge of the desk. You stood there, staring down at it before you finally picked it up and turned towards the door. 

" _A break means you won't be working._ " You looked up again, the pad still in your hand as you felt a smile crack your face. 

"I forget you don't miss a thing, some times." You started back for the door, shaking your head. 

" _Winston has asked that I ensure you do not overwork yourself, in his absence._ "

That's right. He'd gone off on some kind of mission with Tracer and Dr. Ziegler yesterday. Or was it the day before? You sighed, folding your arms as you tried to get the days straight in your head. They'd left you here on base with literally a handful of support staff; just enough to keep Gibraltar from falling apart, but so few that you never saw a single other person. You were essentially alone here at the Watchpoint. 

"When are they supposed to come back, anyway?" It was hurting your head to think about it too hard, and you finally gave up. When you got outside of the server room, you'd look at a calendar or the date maybe. It would be easier to get a handle on things when you got out of this windowless room.

Athena was silent for a moment, calculating. " _Unknown._ "

"Can you guess?"

" _Tomorrow. However, there may be unknown delays._ "

It would be nice to talk to someone real when they got back. Tracer always came and dragged you out of the server room at dinner time, and for a few hours you'd forget that this wasn't a vacation. You didn't have to think about Talon, or Lamprey. Athena and the thrashed data burning in the servers. Sometimes Dr. Ziegler even had a spare moment, though it was usually Winston and his self-described crippling addiction to peanut butter--

You'd been standing there a moment too long, letting yourself daydream with your hand on the workpad before you finally tucked it up under your arm. You really did need a break. "I promise its not for work." You called back to Athena, walking towards the door at the back of the server room. "Page me when you get this set polished off. We might be able to get started on another section of the database before bed."

" _Very well._ "

The door slid open, leading out into the hallway. You hardly had to pay attention anymore; two months spent walking through the innermost tunnels of the base had all but burned a map into your head as you wandered towards the lift. From there you walked almostly aimlessly, finally arriving at the kitchen.

It wasn't so much a "kitchen" as a tricked-out break room. There weren't enough people on base to really justify operating the actual kitchens and dining hall; Overwatch was still almost paralyzingly undermanned, and aside from the regular agents you'd already met you'd only ever seen one or two other people poking around the fridge here. 

You made something hot to drink, not so much to actively consume but to atleast hold something warm. Bringing your cup to the table, you finally sat down with the workpad in front of you. The interface lit up when you touched the screen. Overwatch's emblem glowed before it fully woke, before it turned into a holographic display.

It hadn't been a lie when you told Athena you were taking a break. This wasn't really work. Not really. Atleast, thats what you told yourself as you scanned the parts of the database you'd managed to salvage. There were holes, of course. You'd expected them, knowing that Talon hadn't just copied files but stole them outright. They were _gone_ , and the only solace you got from seeing those broken pathways was the fact that they didn't know what they had. 

You liked to look through what had been recovered though, and if you were being honest with yourself you would have admitted that this may have been... obsessive. You only had faint, almost dreamlike memories of your childhood before your parents decided to move you off base. 

_For your protection._ That's always what they'd said, growing up. _We just want you to be happier._ You sighed, curling your hands around the cup and blowing the steam away in a fragile puff of smoke. You'd hated hearing that; how were you supposed to feel happier, away from your family? Half the time you didn't even know where they were, and the other half was spent wondering when you would even get to _hear_ them again, let alone _see_.

So what if this was obsessive.

Your thoughts were getting more and more dark, so you began picking through the files to try and distract yourself. You kept hoping that maybe you'd find some trace of your father here on your mother's hidden directory. A _mention_. The ring you'd found in your room hung from a chain you started wearing as a necklace, and even as you squeezed it hoping against hope to find something, anything of his... you were disappointed yet again.

"Maybe it's somewhere else in the drive," you murmured quietly to yourself. It could always attached to a corrupted drive you hadn't repaired yet. Or on a stolen file. No point losing hope just yet.

The section you'd just repaired was visible now, atleast. A new set of folders to poke and prod around, waiting for Athena to call you back to work. You dove in, bringing up the overhead to get an idea of what was buried here. 

Mostly logs, it looked like. All of them dated almost eight years ago, followed by a string of numbers and the letters SG. You gave them all a cursory glance, tabbing between them. Research notes, judging by the meticulous file names. They were probably all part of the same project, which explained why they were sectioned off here and not mixed in with her other documents. 

You brought up one of the earlier logs, and it stole your breath away to see your mother's face. After a while, you thought the shock would start to fade. The novelty would grow thin, and maybe you could see or head her without freezing in place for a split second. But every time, it was like a new suprised, startling you like it was the _first_ time. 

She was younger than you remembered, which made sense. The log was eight years old, probably made around when you first started university. She was listing off stats, notes like it was a patient file. You kept staring, your hands almost crushing the cup as you squeezed.

The hologram kept reading, before she blew a slow breath out through her nose and shook her head. She rubbed her face, and you knew she was tired. Exhausted, but then again that was how you remembered her. Always exhausted, always tired, and somehow she persisted. You wondered if she thrived on work, and that was the only thing that kept her going. 

_"His injuries are extensive. I don't know how to stress that enough on paper; he should be dead."_ She shook her head, leaning on the table. The tiredness was leaking away, and instead you could see the shadows of horror eating up at her eyes. _"I don't think we could have done it without Angela-- A minute later and..."_ You mother scrubbed at her face again, pressing her hands over her eyes like she could wipe away the awful things she'd seen that night.

She sat there, silently, and you wondered if she was going to cut the log short. You pulled up the folder while the log played, stopping when she began speaking once she recovered her composure. _"We've done everything possible with modern medicine."_ She sat back, planting her hands on the desk and shaking her head. _"He will survive, barely. But this wasn't an accidental trauma. Someone... someone **did this** to him, someone wanted him to **die**... and its left its mark behind."_ She hugged herself, and you felt a chill crawling down your spine at the way she spoke. 

Your memories of your mother were always ones of a steadfast, unflappable woman. She seemed almost as immovable, unflinching as a mountain. To see her sit here so... rattled, was unnerving. _"You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. I've done all I can to treat his body, but how do you heal a soul?"_ She sat back in her chair, arms folded with one hand brought up to cover her mouth like she was deep in thought--

"What are you doing?"

You have never slammed your hand down faster in your life than you did in that moment, nearly spilling the cup at your hand as you looked up wildly at the door. The workpad dimmed instantly, your fingers scrambling across the surface to blindly power it down. Genji was staring at you from the doorway, face hidden behind that damned visor. 

Did he just have a _sense_ to know when you were getting up to trouble? That was the only way to explain how he seemed to know exactly where you were when you were looking at things you had no business looking at.

"Do you spend all your time lurking around the halls to sneak up on people?" The words came out sharp, your eyes narrowing as you looked down at the table. You felt like a child, looking at things you shouldn't be looking at, and it just added to the guilty feeling digging its talons in.

"I wasn't sneaking," he answered back, and you weren't sure if that was a teasing edge to his voice or not. It was hard to tell, when you were screaming at yourself internally for begin caught, _again_ , by the same neon-glowing ninja that crept around base like death. "What were you watching?"

You clamped your hands over the workpad, sliding it closer to you across the table like you could make it sink into the table with enough thought. "Nothing." The word came out in a rush, and you could feel yourself getting flustered. This was ridiculous, absurd, and that feeling just fed the growing agitation in your gut. "What do you want, Genji? Or did you stop by just to startle me again."

Why did the words have to come out so hostile? You bit back your tongue, glaring at him before you shook your head and looked down at the table. You didn't like this feeling, of being off balance. It didn't help you couldn't see his face, couldn't read his expression. 

At the back of your mind, you knew he didn't deserve the hosility. You were embarassed, and it just made your words sharp. The lashing out hadn't helped either, and now you felt like you were stuck. The apology was stuck in your throat, and you wondered if he'd even take it anyway. 

"Why are you angry?" His question caught you off guard, and when you looked up he was suddenly standing over you. You blinked up at him, shifting in your chair to unconsciously put some distance between the two of you. It wasn't like you could tell him you were watching your mother's old logs; it would be like admitting to reading a journal, and that just heightened the awkward scrambling in your head.

"I'm not-- I'm not angry." You muttered, glancing away from him to pick up the workpad like you could hide behind it. "I'm annoyed."

"Annoyed, then." Genji said gently, and you half expected him to put a hand on your arm or your shoulder. You watched him, staring up at that visor and putting the workpad back to the table. You gave it some thought, trying to avoid the whole truth if you could. There was alot of things grating at you, and here he was giving you an out. You finally sat back in the chair, shaking your head. 

"I'm... tired of seeing the same metal walls and monitors. Tired of going down an elevator to a room that's not really mine. And I'm tired of not seeing another person for days at a time." You looked up at Genji again, frowning as you folded your hands on the table. "I'm sorry, for snapping at you. It wasn't fair."

He didn't answer, and for a moment you didn't think he would accept your apology or your half-baked excuse. He had to know that you were blowing smoke, and he was going to call you out on it. Caught red handed yet again--

"May I show you something?" He held a hand out, and for a moment you could only blink up at him like he'd sprouted a second head. That... that hadn't been what you'd expected, to be totally honest.

You sat there, dumbfounded and staring for a few moments longer, your brain trying to think what he was up to before you finally snapped back to reality. To his credit, Genji didn't rush you. He didn't say a word, letting you work through it on your own without feeling pressured-- or atleast, not as pressured if he prompted an answer. Finally you nodded, taking his hand as he helped you stand before he withdrew and led you out of the kitchen. 

The pair of you walked in silence, Genji a few steps ahead as he guided you through the halls. You recognized the path vaguely as the one you'd first taken when you'd arrived at Gibraltar. You hadn't been this way for almost a month and a half now, spending all of your time down below the surface in the server rooms. 

"Where are we going?" You murmured when you arrived in that first room with the broken server and the shattered glass. It still wasn't repaired, and the storm shutters were drawn down over the windows like metal curtains. Genji didn't answer, instead taking hold of your arm to guide you up the steps towards the main computer when you began to stray towards the door again. 

For a moment you wondered if he was going to show you something here on the console, and you wondered what the hell it could possibly be that you wouldn't have already seen down in the server room itself-- but he didn't even so much as acknowledge the computer and took you through the tunnel leading off of the upper portion of the deck. 

The door slid open, and you were hit with a gust of cool salty air as the silent man motioned you through the door. 

You stepped out, hesistant as you waited for Genji to follow you out of the circular door. He wasn't far behind, stepping past you to stand at the edge and staring out--

The sunset caught you almost by surprise, turning the ocean into a golden, shifting mass of red and orange. It had to be sunset, the great golden star was sinking beneath the waves as the sky above it darkened into an inky blue. Whatever you'd been planning to say died in your throat, and you realized how long it had been since you'd been outside. 

How long it had been since you'd seen the _sky_. It took your breath away.

"It is beautiful here." Genji broke the silence, the sun slipping almost completely behind the waves. It was still glowing, that moment when it wasn't quite day, not quite dusk. "I could never appreciate it before."

You broke your eyes away from the horizon, turning to stare at his back as he stood watching the sea. "What's that supposed to mean?" You answered, that same uneasy feeling from the kitchen coming back. The only difference being that it was muted now, a minor discomfort.

He didn't answer for a while, letting the sun vanish completely and finally throwing the world into dusk. It was still too early for the flood lights to power on, so the pair of you stood in darkness as if waiting. "The more you focus on the past, the less you will live in the present."

So he had seen what you were up to; you wondered how much of the log he'd heard, if he knew how obsessively you watched all of your mother's old journals. Part of you wanted to turn around on your heel, march right back in to the Watchpoint and avoid Genji altogether for the foreseeable future... but something kept you there. Maybe it was the darkness of dusk closing around you like a cloak, hiding you from view. Or maybe it was just the way he spoke the words, a man who had lived the wisdom he was offering.

You joined him at the edge of the platform, dropping down to sit at the edge so your legs could dangle off the side as you chewed on his words. When you settled he dropped down to join you at the edge, watching you as you studiously avoided his.... eyes? Visor? 

"It sounds like you're talking from experience." You couldn't take the silence any more, wrapping your arms around you more from nerves than the cold. It was still just this side of warm, the chill of the ocean slowly growing as the moon began to climb up the sky.

"Perhaps."

The silence stretched, Genji finally turning to watch the ocean. If it bothered him, it didn't show... but it bothered you. The longer you sat watching the water, smelling the air, the more you realized what was eating you. The driving force as you worked yourself to exhaustion every night to make this process just alittle faster. 

"What's it like, out there?" You murmured, glancing at the man beside you. He turned his head just a touch, so you know he heard, but he didn't answer right away. "Does anyone... know I'm gone?"

"I don't know." Genji finally answered. He was looking at you now, but with that damned mask it was impossible to guess what he was thinking. "Does that bother you?"

"No." The answer came too quickly, too firmly. You sighed, shaking your head and picking at your hands. "Yes."

He didn't answer, that silence both maddening and appreciated. For a moment you had a thought, and you had to quietly chuckle as Jesse's words came back to haunt you. _He's not so bad when he's not bein' a spooky bastard._

"I guess, I expected something different." You continued, rubbing at your hands. "I... I don't know. I should be leaving work, wondering what I'm going to make for dinner. Looking forward to catching up on a show, or something. Finishing that book I was reading." You laughed, but it had a bitter edge like glass breaking. "That sounds so stupid now. Petty. I was kidnapped and I'm worried about _work_."

"It isn't petty." You looked up as Genji spoke, the full weight of his stare on you. You wanted to ask what he looked like, under that helmet... but it was awkward to ask. You were starting to get a sense for his expression anyway without the help of his face. The small things in his voice, his accent. In the absence of the visual, another sense would always take over. "You will return to these things, in time. But you must also remember to live your life in the moment."

The silence swelled around you again, the cold sinking in as the floodlights finally flared to life. Just like that the comforting dimness and half-dark of dusk was gone in a flash, the light leaving you suddenly exposed. The illusion was gone, and suddenly it felt like you couldn't bring all these half-thoughts and worries out into the open.

You wanted to get up, but that meant ending the conversation with Genji-- and surprisingly you weren't ready to go yet. You were curious now, this quiet, faceless man who hadn't once mentioned either one of your parents was... refreshing. You hadn't realized that, until now. You'd spent your whole time here as your mother's daughter, when you spoke to him you were just _you_.

"I recognized Tracer from the posters." You said the first thing that came to mind, trying to extend the conversation as long as you could until the cold pushed you back indoors. "Dr. Zeigler, too. When you think of Overwatch they're the first faces that come to mind. Winston too. But not you." Genji chuckled, and you wondered if you were on to something. "So what about you Genji? Did you join up after the Golden Age of heroes?"

"Why are you curious?" You could almost hear the smile in his voice, and it brought you a small touch of relief. He seemed more human now, and less stoic. It was... nice.

"Maybe I just want to get to know you better." You grinned, nudging at him with an elbow. "Maybe you'll let slip your secret and I can finally catch you before you creep up on me."

This time he laughed, fullthroated and joyous. The sound caught you off guard, and you looked alittle shock as he stood up. He offered you his hand again, helping you from the edge of the platform. "If you can catch me before I surprise you, I will tell you something about myself. That sounds like a fun game, doesn't it?"

You heaved yourself up, turning to the door as Genji chuckled to himself. You felt like you were walking into something, though you weren't quite sure what yet... but what could it hurt? "Deal."

The two of you stood in front of the opened door a moment longer, the floodlights drowning you in light as Genji hesitated at the door. "I didn't start in Overwatch," he said after a moment, turning to look at you as you started entering the door into the tunnel. You stopped, a hand on the edge as he thought of what else to add. 

"No?" 

He shook his head, still chuckling as you both finally reentered the base. "That's all you will get from me, for now. I look forward to our game."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are picking up! I felt like this fic has been Genji-light since we're seven chapters in and he's hardly had a moment... but I hope you guys like it. I'll try to get the next chapter up quickly, and thank you all for your patience! I'm really looking forward to this next arc :3


End file.
